


Catch a Fallen Star

by the__magpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crowley vs Abaddon, Fallen Star Castiel, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Past John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Stardust AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-08 20:49:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8860849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the__magpie/pseuds/the__magpie
Summary: Dean Winchester would do anything to convince Lisa Braeden to marry him, even if it means venturing beyond the wall near his village to bring her a star that they watched fall from the sky. What he does not expect, though, is to end up dragging a grumpy, uncooperative star named Castiel through a strange land of faeries, magic, and flying pirates. Pursued by an ancient witch and two nobles vying for the throne, Dean and Castiel find themselves caught up in an adventure beyond what they could have ever imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Stardust AU that I've been wanting to write for years! As you may have guessed, this is largely based on the 2007 movie Stardust, which is based on the Neil Gaiman novel. I took inspiration from both, but primarily from the movie. 
> 
> Most of this fic is already written or planned, so I should be updating pretty regularly!
> 
> Enjoy!!

The village of Lawrence was no more than two hundred-odd people crowded into squat, thatch-roofed houses along its single cobblestoned street. Everybody knew everybody and nobody’s business was a secret.

John Winchester was eighteen when he decided that Lawrence wasn't big enough for him. He was nearly a man and he was expected to choose a wife soon. But he had barely seen the world; he didn't want to settle down before he explored outside the borders of his village. So one October evening, when the air bit his cheeks with its chill and dry leaves piled up along the gutters, he packed a knapsack of food and clothes and set off down the village's main street, oblivious to the curious stares of other villagers out cottage windows.

Everyone in Lawrence knew not to cross the wall on the other side of the meadow but nobody really knew why, and John was determined to find out. He had grown up with stories of fairies and sorcerers and magic – but also danger – on the other side. Of course, he didn’t believe in any of it; he had grown out of that years ago. But stories had to come from somewhere, didn’t they?

He marched through the forest and across the meadow, stopping at the low stone wall that stood no higher than his chest. A storm when he was a boy had blown a few of the stones loose, creating a perfect gap to step through. He could see across to the other side; it was a field like the one he stood in, with a copse of trees beyond. John squared his shoulders and stepped through the gap in the wall, feeling an odd shiver pass through him as he set foot on the other side. Holding his breath, he waiting to be struck by lightning or burst into flames or any of the things he had expected, but nothing happening. Laughing a little to himself, he shouldered his pack again and walked toward the trees.

He had been walking for a while, not entirely sure where he was heading, when he heard voices up ahead. Speeding up his pace, he broke through the trees to be surrounded by a whirlwind of color and sound. Caravans painted in bright colors lined a narrow street, lit up by both gas lamps and tiny lights that floated in the air of their own volition. The street was crowded with people dressed in strange clothing in every color of the rainbow and some that John had never even seen before. Some even had hair or skin of green, purple, blue. Music from unfamiliar instruments was almost drowned out by vendors shouting out, hawking their goods and trying to outdo each other. Hardly believing his eyes, John wandered among the crowd, knowing but not caring that his mouth was hanging open. Animals that he didn't know the names of in golden cages screeched at him as he passed, intricate paintings seemed to move before his very eyes as he stared at them, and the smells of spices wafted through the autumn air. He stopped at a table in front of a bright yellow caravan displaying a number of tiny metal figurines, bending over to examine them.

“See anything you like?”

John snapped upright at the voice, finding himself face to face with a smirking young woman. He had seen some beautiful women in his life, as many travelers passed through Lawrence on their way to bigger places, but never anyone even nearing an equal to this woman’s beauty. Her yellow hair hung in waves over her shoulders and she looked at John expectantly with sparkling blue eyes.

“Uh...uh…” He seemed to have forgotten how to speak. Swallowing quickly, he tried again. “What are they?”

“They're supposed to be amulets for good luck.” The woman picked one of the figurines up and John saw that it was tied to a simple black cord. “If you wear it around your neck, no harm will come to you.”

John couldn't care less about the amulets, but he wanted an excuse to keep talking to her. He pointed to one at random. “How much for that one?”

The woman smiled coyly. “A favor.”

“Sorry?”

“One day I'll ask you for something, and you must oblige.”

“Anything,” John said quickly. He flushed when the woman raised her eyebrows teasingly at his willingness. “But how will I know when you ask?”

“I will find you,” she said. “But first -” She leaned across the table and quickly pressed her lips against John’s, pressing the amulet into his hand at the same time. “We seal it with a kiss.”

John gaped at her, speechless.

Then a harsh voice rang out from the yellow caravan behind her. “Girl!”

The woman’s face went pale. “I have to go. I'll find you again.”

“What's your name?” John blurted out.

“Mary.”

“I’m John.”

Mary offered him a tiny smile. “I'll see you again, John.” Then she turned and hurried away toward the caravan.

When she was gone, John looked down at the amulet in his hand. It was designed to resemble a human face wearing a strange horned crown. He didn't completely understand what it meant but he smiled as he hung it around his neck, already knowing that he would treasure it forever.

 

* * *

 

John didn't hear from Mary for five months. During the first month, he returned every night to the village on the other side of the wall, but no matter how long he spent wandering among the caravans, he never saw the bright yellow one that Mary had been in. From then on, he went every few days to the wall, to stare at the field on the other side for an hour or two, wishing that she would appear there, only to give up and return home.

Then, on a chill March morning, he walked to the wall to find a crisp white envelope resting on the stones with his name written in a curly script. Eagerly, John tore it open and scanned the letter inside.

 

_My dear John,_

_It has been many months since we met and it is likely that you have forgotten the deal that we made. In any case, I cannot expect you to hold up your end if you do not desire, as the favor I ask is much too large a price for a simple amulet._

_What I didn't tell you when we met is that I am a princess, captured and forced into a lifetime of enslavement by a demon named Azazel. I am bound to him forever, as my enslavement ends with his death, and he is immortal. But since I have grown melancholy and disobedient of late, he has allowed me one gift. I will receive five years of freedom if I can find someone to marry me for those years._

_You may see now the favor I am about to ask of you and I understand if you react with disgust or fear. This is not what you anticipated when I sold you that amulet all those months ago. But you are the only one I know to turn to. If we marry, I expect nothing of you but to sign the paper that will make our union official. We may live in different houses and never speak to one another for the duration of my five years._

_I understand if you refuse this, and consider your debt forgotten if you do. But if you choose to agree, come to the wall at this spot at midnight at the next new moon. I will be waiting and anxiously hoping to become your wife._

_Ever yours,_

_Mary_

 

John had made up his mind before he even finished the letter. He folded it up carefully and tucked it into his jacket, calculating when the next new moon took place. If he was correct, it was a few days away, which gave him enough time to clear out the guest room in his cottage and make a proper feast for her.

The days passed by quickly, and on the night that Mary had indicated John went to the wall again. There he found Mary standing on the other side beside a hulking man with a cruel face and yellow eyes. John could see relief sharply on Mary’s face when she spotted him.

“This is it?” the man beside Mary growled. That had to be the demon Azazel that Mary had mentioned.

“That's him,” Mary said quietly, meeting John’s eyes.

Azazel relinquished Mary by handing the thin silver chain around her ankle to John. He didn't like the idea of having his wife chained to him, but Mary explained that he couldn't undo it without powerful magic. Besides, it was only symbolic; she could move freely wherever she wanted with the chain tied around her ankle, but it didn't need to be attached to anything else.

“Five years,” Azazel reminded Mary. She nodded gravely and turned to John. He held out a hand to help her step through the gap in the wall and they walked back to the village to begin their new life together.

 

* * *

 

They fell in love, as one might expect. Mary never ended up using the guest room; John made it clear from the very beginning that he wanted her to be a part of his life. They were married, to the shock of all the other villagers who didn't understand where the stranger had come from.

Their first son came along at the beginning of the next year, on a frozen January night with the stars watching coldly from above. They named him Dean. He cried a lot after he was born, but Mary was always able to find some way of calming him down.

They were happy together. John didn't care about the gossip surrounding Mary or living in the same small village where he had spent his whole life. He worked as a blacksmith, providing for his wife and son.

Three years after Dean, Sam came along, a tiny bundle with big eyes and a shock of dark hair even from birth. The two boys connected instantly and Dean took it upon himself to be Sam’s protector. For the little family of four, every day seemed better than the last had been.

A part of John had always known that their time together would run out. But at nineteen, five years had seemed like an age and he hadn't worried about what would happen when it ended. Mary didn't talk about it, so John didn’t either. He half expected Azazel to let them keep living together if they showed him how happy they were. Surely he couldn't take Mary away from her sons.

But five years to the day since John helped Mary climb over the wall, she vanished. It was as if she had never been there.

Sam cried inconsolably and Dean wouldn’t stop asking where she had gone. Meanwhile, John retreated into himself, speaking to no one and leaving the care of his sons to the women of the village. For a month, he spent every night crossing the wall and wandering through the forest and the town on the other side, searching for his wife. He never found a trace of her.

 

* * *

 

The years passed by and Sam and Dean grew up mostly without their father. He was bitter and taciturn, having little time for anything besides his own thoughts and his drinking. The village looked on in disapproval, doing what they could to raise his boys where he failed. Mostly, though, Dean looked out for Sam, spending every waking minute watching him to make sure that he was safe and taken care of.

When Dean was fourteen, a fire in the smithy killed John. He knew enough to mourn his father, but it wasn't real grief; he felt as if he had barely known the man. After that, he took over working to provide for himself and Sam, no longer content with taking the charity offerings of the villagers. For the next few years, he spent nearly all of his time working one job or another, trying to make a better life for him and his brother.

But by the time he was eighteen, he began to feel that Lawrence wasn't big enough for him anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

“Dean Winchester, you’d better go home before I kick you out of this bar myself.”

Dean looked up from the counter he was wiping to see Ellen Harvelle standing on the other side, her hands on her hips.

“Just let me finish this,” he said.

“Oh no, you don't.” Ellen snatched the cloth out of his hand and began vigorously wiping down the area that he had been cleaning. “You'll go home to your brother this instant. You've been here since noon.”

“I don't mind, Ellen, really.”

“Well, I do. You'll work yourself to death, boy. Go home and have a little fun for once.”

Rolling his eyes, Dean gave up and untied the apron from around his waist. Ellen was a good person - she paid him well and let him take on extra shifts at the tavern she owned - but she worried too much. He stashed the apron under the counter and donned the worn leather jacket that had been his dad’s. Waving goodbye to Ellen and her daughter Jo, he left the Roadhouse and started down the cobbled streets toward home.

The late summer night was warm and balmy. He didn’t need to wear his coat, but it was a comfort to him. It was late, so nobody else was out on the street. As he walked, he kicked at a loose stone that clattered across the cobblestones and landed in a patch of yellow flowers.

He stopped and looked upward to see the top window of the house in front of him lit up from the inside. Quickly, Dean crouched down and picked the yellow flowers, arranging them into a makeshift bouquet. Then he took the stone that he had kicked, weighed it in his hand for a moment, and tossed it upward until it clacked against the top window.

Lisa Braeden came to the window almost immediately, unlatching it and leaning out over the sill. Dean waved and held up the flowers, not wanted to speak for fear of waking up her family. She grinned and disappeared from the window.

For a few moments, Dean wondered if he should leave, unsure of whether or not she was coming out to meet him. Then the front door of her house creaked open and Lisa stepped out in her white nightgown.

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful lady?” Dean said, holding out the bouquet. Lisa laughed and took it.

“These are from my mother’s garden, aren't they?”

Dean shrugged sheepishly. Lisa took his arm and the flowers and they walked together down the quiet street.

“What happens if your dad wakes up and finds you gone?” Dean asked.

“He'll probably challenge you to a duel or something for my honor,” Lisa said nonchalantly. When she saw the look on his face, she bumped his shoulder playfully. “I'm kidding. He wouldn't kill you. Probably.”

Dean grimaced. By far the worst part about courting Lisa Braeden was dealing with her father. He had disapproved of Dean from the moment he and Lisa first became friends, and now that Dean was going after Lisa’s hand, he was even worse.

Dean liked Lisa just fine, but didn’t love her - his heart didn't flutter when he saw her, he didn't think about her every moment they were apart, and all the other things that his dad had described he felt about his mom. But marrying her was the smartest choice. They got along well and she came from a rich family, which meant that Dean wouldn't have to work every waking minute to provide for Sam. But Mr. Braeden looked down on him for precisely that reason; he couldn't stomach the idea of his daughter marrying a man who spent his days working in a tavern rather than conducting trade or poring over dusty old books. Still, Dean wouldn't give up.

He and Lisa ended up in the field on the edge of town, sitting side by side in the long grass and looking up at the twinkling stars overhead. Holding his breath cautiously, Dean lifted his arm around Lisa’s shoulder. She gave a hum of contentment and leaned against him.

“Wouldn't you love to see the stars someday?” she said quietly.

“I can see them right now.”

“I mean up close. From here they're just distant specks of light, but wouldn't it be wonderful to go up there and fly among them?”

“I guess so,” Dean said, perplexed. “Though I don't know how you'd get up there.”

Lisa laughed. “I know, it's a silly idea.”

For a while, they sat there pressed together, looking upward at the impossible distance between them and the heavens. Then Lisa gasped and lifted her hand to point up.

“Dean, look!”

They watched a ball of light fall from on high, streaking across the sky over Lawrence and momentarily lighting the village up like it was daytime. Then it disappeared over the distant trees, leaving nothing but a faint trail of silvery light in its wake.

“A falling star,” Lisa murmured. “It's beautiful.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, looking in the direction that the star had vanished. “I'll bring it back for you.”

Lisa sat up in surprise and faced him. “What?”

Dean straightened, a smile creeping onto his face. “I'll bring you back the fallen star, Lisa. If you'll marry me when I return.”

Lisa gave a surprised laugh. “You're serious?”

“Dead serious.” Dean took her hand. “Lisa Braeden, if I bring you a fallen star, will you marry me?”

She grinned delightedly. “I could hardly say no to that!” Then she frowned. “But Dean, it's got to be miles away. And it landed on the other side of the wall. Nobody goes over there.”

Dean shrugged. “My mother came from over the wall.” It was one of the few things his father had told him about her before he died. “I don't care how far it is. I'll bring it back for you, Lisa.”

“Alright, then. It's a deal.” She shook his hand, smiling. Then she leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the lips, making him blush. “You'd better get going, or else my father will grow impatient and promise me to some rich gentleman.”

“Of course!” Dean stood up, offering Lisa his hand. “May I walk you home?”

She stood as well. “You may.”

They walked back to the village arm in arm. Dean looked up at the sky, wondering how many miles he would have to walk to find this fallen star.

 

* * *

  

Far away, beyond the wall and well past the town where John and Mary first met, Crowley watched the falling star from a castle built high in the mountains. It blazed through the sky like a beacon, or perhaps an omen, and Crowley narrowed his eyes when it crashed with a sound he could hear from the window of the castle. It wasn't far away - perhaps a day's ride on horseback if he didn't stop.

“A fallen star.”

Crowley had to stop himself from jumping at the sound of the voice behind him. He turned to face his cousin, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The king?”

“Dead,” said Abaddon, flicking a strand of dark red hair carelessly over her shoulder. “He passed away quietly a few minutes ago. Probably didn't even know he was going.”

Crowley nodded. “And he didn't name an heir?”

“No.”

“His daughter's been missing for two decades. It'll be one of us.”

Abaddon joined him at the window. “The question is, which one?”

Crowley kept his eyes on the sky outside, but he was tense, waiting for Abaddon to make a move. They were both equally qualified to take the throne, as their cousin’s, the late King Samuel’s, only living relatives. The law said that the throne went to the one who received the blessing of the heavens from the previous king. But if a king didn't name an heir, no one could take the throne. The kingdom of Faerie would no doubt fall into chaos as Crowley and Abaddon battled for control.

A fallen star could change that, though. The heart of a star qualified as the blessing of the heavens, according to the frustratingly ambiguous laws of the land, so whichever of them reached it first and took its heart would be the new rightful ruler. This star was a little too conveniently timed, and Crowley suspected that his late cousin had something to do with it.

“It's down to us now.” Abaddon smirked at him. “May the best woman win.”

 

* * *

 

Many miles from there, in a crumbling fortress nearly as old as its mistress, a flash of light from the sky caught Rowena’s eye. She hurried to the window as quickly as her old bones would carry her and leaned out in time to see the star disappear from view as it hit the ground.

“Heavens above,” she whispered. “A fallen star.”

The last fallen star had come hundreds of years ago. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be young.

“Still a bit left,” she muttered to herself, hobbling away from the window toward a wooden chest coated with a thick layer of dust. Coughing weakly, she opened the chest to find a tiny box. She fished the key out from underneath her dress and unlocked the box, where a ball of glowing silver light no bigger than a walnut shone up at her, all that remained of the last star’s heart.

“Ahhh,” she sighed, seizing the ball and swallowing it. She closed her eyes as new life poured through her, straightening her stooped back, clearing her eyes and ears, and sending thick red curls tumbling down her back. She stretched luxuriously and gave a little laugh. “That's more like it!”

She strode through the fortress, where the skeletons of her sisters littered the hallways. She was the only one left of her coven; the rest had died off years ago when she stole the remains of the last star’s heart for herself.

She knew she had to hurry if she wanted to reach the star before anyone else. All she had to do was find it, take its heart for her own, and consume it. With no one to share it with, it would last for centuries and centuries, and she would never grow old again.

 

* * *

 

When Castiel opened his eyes for the first time, he could see his brothers and sisters. But they weren’t shining beside him as they normally did, offering him comfort and familiarity in his cold solitude. Instead, they wheeled above him, too far to hear him if he called out.

He didn’t remember what happened. One moment he was doing exactly what he had done for hundreds of years, unchanging. Then he felt a sharp tug that pulled him from his spot in the heavens and sent him hurtling toward the earth he had spent his life watching over with a kind of disinterested detachment. He had fallen, seeing his brothers and sisters grow more distant as the earth below him grew closer. He had screamed from the pain of it.

Now, he lay on his back (he had a back now – he had a body) and looked at the stars that were millions of miles away. He blinked. He had eyes, and eyelids, and a soft brush of hair across his forehead. He drew air into his lungs for the first time, wondering at the way that it burned at his chest and his heart.

His heart. He felt it glowing even beneath his brand new skin. It longed to be up there, to shine brilliantly like it once had. It felt like the only part of him that was really his.

Slowly, he realized that he could tense and relax the muscles in his arms. After a few minutes of doing this, he figured out how to lift his arm off the ground. He moved his hand in front of his face and opened and closed his fingers over and over, watching the bones and the tendons working together, watching the skin stretch and wrinkle. He tapped his fingernails together and then dug them into his palm, feeling pain for the first time.

With more effort than he had ever taken to do anything, he sat up, feeling the unused muscles in his body scramble to catch up. He looked down at himself, at his skin the color of pale sand, at the soft white fabric covering his body. He put his hands on his face and felt his nose, his lips, his eyes, his ears, his hair.

He was no longer a star. He had fallen from the sky and now he was no better than the humans that crawled on this earth. A new kind of pain shot through him, catching his breath in his throat. His brothers and sisters spun overhead, much too far away to know or care as he sat where he had fallen, weeping.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays, everyone!

When Dean got back to the room he rented with Sam, his brother was still awake, sitting at the table with his chin on his hands, eyes moving slowly over the page of a worn book nearly half the size of the table. The candle that he was using for light had nearly burned out and it flickered feebly in the draft created by Dean closing the door.

“Hey,” Sam said, blinking sleepily at Dean. “Welcome back.”

On the walk back here, Dean had run over every possible reason he could think of that chasing after a star for Lisa was a bad idea. The number one reason was sitting right in front of him. He hesitated.

“What's wrong?” Sam straightened up. He had an uncanny ability of telling whenever Dean had something on his mind.

“I think I just made a promise that I can't keep.”

“What happened?”

Dean sat down heavily in the chair across from his brother. “Promise you won't laugh?”

Sam made an X motion over his heart.

“I told Lisa I'd bring her a fallen star from the other side of the wall if she'd marry me.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Wait, _what_?”

“I know, I know!” Dean groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “It was stupid and impulsive and she's going to be so disappointed when I don't do it…”

Sam looked shocked. “Why aren't you going to do it?”

“Because I can't! I - I have things I need to do here. Important things.”

Sam crossed his arms. “Like what? Working in a tavern?”

Dean lifted his head up to give his brother a withering look. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don't know! Isn't this what you wanted? To marry Lisa and be able to provide for us?

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again, finally muttering, “I guess so…”

“Besides, the stories all say that stars are supposed to be incredibly powerful. I would be tempted to go myself but I don't think Lisa wants to marry me.”

Dean sighed. Sam was really into that fairy tale, folklore stuff - he studied it like it was undeniable truth. Ever since learning that his mother came from the other side of the wall, he was convinced that that was what was over there and he had tried to learn as much as he could about it. Dean had forbidden him from going to the other side; he had seen what crossing the wall did to their father and he didn't want it happening to his brother as well.

“I couldn't just leave you,” he protested.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean, please. I'm fifteen, not an infant. Ellen will let me take your job at the tavern so I can make ends meet until you get back.”

“What about your studies? I can't ask you to leave all that behind.”

“I won't. But you always say I spend too much time with my books, so maybe it'll be good for me to take some time away from them.”

“But...but…” Dean knew he was grasping at straws at this point. “It could be miles and miles away. Who knows how far I would have to travel just to find it, not to mention bringing it all the way back.”

“That shouldn't be a problem.” Sam stood and crossed to his bed, taking the dying candle with him. He crouched beside the bed and pulled out one of the boxes stored underneath. “I found this when I was going through some of Dad’s stuff.” He rummaged through the box until he pulled out a short black stick of wax with a wick on one end. “Mom must have given it to him because it definitely has magical properties.”

Dean frowned and sat down beside him on the bed. “What is it?”

“It's called an Angel’s Wing. When you light the wick, you think of wherever you want to be and it'll transport you there. It's only good for a few uses, so don't waste it.”

“Is it made from real angels’ wings?” Dean asked solemnly.

Sam snorted. “No, stupid. Everyone knows that angels don't really exist.”

“Of course,” Dean muttered. “But stars falling from the sky and candles that teleport you places are completely normal.”

Sam handed the candle to Dean. “All you have to do is light it, wish to be wherever the star is, and once you've got it wish to be back here.”

Dean looked at the stick of wax in his hand then back at his brother. “You've really got an answer for everything, huh?”

“I want you to be happy,” Sam shrugged. Dean put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him into a short, tight hug.

 

* * *

 

Within an hour of seeing the star streak across the sky, Crowley was in a carriage, leaving the castle behind him. He took only a handful of his most trusted guards. Before he left, he made sure to smear poison along the rims of all of the goblets in Adaddon’s chamber. He doubted she would fall for it, but it was worth a try.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think that Abaddon wouldn’t try to kill him either. From here on out, he would have someone test all his food and drink before he ate, and he would sleep with one eye open to watch out for assassins. He wouldn’t let his guard down even around his trusted soldiers; anyone’s loyalty could be swayed with enough gold.

He knew that either he or Abaddon would die on this quest to take the star’s heart, and he’d be damned if he let it be him without putting up a fight. But he would rather die than see the smug look on Abaddon’s face as she took the crown if she reached the star first. No, he wouldn’t let that happen. He and his cousin had grown up side by side, and while he felt no love toward her, he knew how her mind worked. As long as he could stay one step ahead of her, there was no way he could lose.

 

* * *

  

Rowena set out on foot, wrapped in a long black travelling cloak and wishing there had been enough of the last star’s heart left to let her transport herself to where this one lay waiting for her. Eventually she would come upon some poor traveller and take their carriage or wagon, but until then her feet were the only method she had to get where she wanted to go. But she would get there. She may not be the first to arrive but she would be the first to claim the star’s heart. She doubted she would survive until the next one fell.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean decided to leave at first light. Sam helped him pack a knapsack of everything he might need - a change of clothes, extra socks, a canteen for water. The little food in their cupboards was split between the two of them, though Dean thought he glimpsed Sam sneaking an extra roll of bread into the bag. Dean hung the good luck amulet he had inherited from his mother around his neck, swung his cloak over his shoulders, and took the Angel’s Wing candle that Sam held out to him.

“This is it, then,” Dean said nervously.

“Good luck.” Sam’s face was solemn. “Stay safe out there.”

Dean looked down at the Angel’s Wing. “So how does this work?”

Sam grabbed another candle from the table. “Face in the direction that you want to travel,” he instructed. Dean turned to face north, toward the wall, where the star had disappeared. “When I light the end of the Angel’s Wing, think only about the star. Don't let anything else enter your mind.”

“Okay.” Dean closed his eyes, picturing the streak of light that blazed across the sky the night before. He let the image fill his mind, then opened one eye and peered at Sam. “Whenever you're ready.”

Sam lifted his candle to hold against the wick of the Angel’s Wing. For a moment nothing happened. Dean was about to wonder out loud if it was defective. Then something jerked in his stomach and he felt himself hurtling through space.

Colors and images flashed by too quickly for him to see properly until he grew nauseated and had to close his eyes. He concentrated on the star with everything he was capable of.

Then he hit the ground so hard that he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees onto ground that felt as hard as metal. “Holy shit,” he whispered, fighting back the wave of queasiness that rolled over him. He caught his breath, then straightened up to look at his surroundings.

He stood at the base of a crater at least fifty feet in diameter and twice as deep as he was tall. From what he could see, the trees in all directions had been flattened. The earth he stood on was so compacted it was completely solid. This had to be the site of the star’s fall.

Turning around, he jumped when he saw someone staring back at him. In the very center of the crater sat a boy no older than Dean himself. He wore a loose white shirt and trousers and a fierce scowl. His dark hair was messy, almost windswept, and his eyes were red.

“What are you doing here?” the boy snapped.

Dean stepped closer. “Who are you?”

“I asked my question first.”

Matching the boy’s scowl, Dean said, “Fine. I'm looking for a fallen star. You haven’t seen one around here, have you?”

The boy raised his eyebrows. “You're joking.”

“No, I saw a star falling in this direction last night and I used an Angel’s Wing to get myself here. It must have landed here, so it can't be far.”

“A star? What do you think a star looks like?”

“I don't know,” Dean said, exasperated. “A big hunk of metal, I guess. Listen, I have to bring it back to give to a girl so she'll marry me.”

“You can’t be serious,” the boy muttered. When Dean’s expression didn’t change, the boy snorted. “That’s not the most romantic gift.”

“It's something she wanted, okay? Now are you going to help me or not?”

The boy raised his eyebrows. “Not.”

“I'll find the star myself, then.”

Dean wandered in a circle around the perimeter of the crater. He thought he would have seen the star immediately once he got here, but maybe it was smaller than he expected. If something fell with enough speed, it could probably make a crater this size no matter how small it was. Or maybe somebody had already beaten him here and taken it. Sam said that fallen stars were powerful and they couldn't exactly be common.

He could feel the boy watching him from his spot in the center of the crater. Finally, Dean turned to him. “There hasn't been anybody else here, has there?”

The boy said nothing, and Dean sighed.

“You're really not going to help me, are you?”

“Have you considered that the star doesn't _want_ to be taken as a gift to somebody’s girlfriend?” the boy snapped. “And maybe it didn't want to fall at all? And it was just minding it's business, doing its job in the sky, when some stupid spell hit it square in the face and knocked it down to the earth?”

Dean stared at the boy as something clicked in his brain. “ _You're_ the star!”

“He’s a genius!”

Dean crossed over to him, crouching down in front of him and peering at him. The boy leaned away, unnerved. “But you look just like a human!” Dean said.

The boy narrowed his eyes, which were as blue as the night sky. “Maybe humans look like stars.”

“But…” Dean shook his head. “This is not what I thought stars were supposed to look like.”

The boy waved his hands sarcastically. “Surprise.”

“Well, this will make it easier to bring you back to Lisa. I thought I was going to carry a hunk of metal back, but you have two legs. You can just walk.”

The boy snorted. “I'm not walking anywhere.”

“Well that’s fine, because I’ve got this.” Dean held out the Angel’s Wing in his hand. Nearly half of it had been burned away on his journey here, but he fumbled for the pack of matches that Sam had thrown into his bag. “Come on,” he told the star, holding out a hand for the other boy to pull himself to his feet. He was surprised when the boy’s hand felt warm, almost hot, against his. He had half expected it to be cold.

The star seemed a little shaky on his feet, but he became steadier when Dean looped an arm through his elbow. “Just hold on tight to me,” Dean instructed. He struck one of the matches and held it against the wick of the candle, holding his breath to prepare himself to go hurtling through space again. This time, though, nothing happened. For a few seconds, they stood arm in arm while the wick burned and hot black wax dripped onto Dean’s fist.

“You’re wasting the candle,” the star said, sounding bored.

With a noise of frustration, Dean blew out the flame. “Why isn’t it working?”

“How far away if this village of yours?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t walk here.”

“I’m guessing it’s not in this realm.”

“What do you mean?”

The star held out his left hand, palm up, as if demonstrating something. “Here’s your realm. Boring, no magic.” He held up his right palm. “Here’s the Faerie realm. Magic, falling stars, and so on. You can’t go from this realm back to a non-magical one using magical means.”

“But I travelled from my village to here! Why doesn’t it go both ways?”

The star shrugged. “It just doesn’t work like that.”

“Awesome.” Dean shoved the matches back into his bag. “We’ll walk, then. This Faerie realm can’t be that big, can it?”

“Good luck with that.” The star stepped away and sat back down in his spot at the center of the crater. “I’ll stay here.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay fine. Fine. You want to stay here, suit yourself. But I’m not going to stay with you and fight off all the wild animals that probably live around here.”

For the first time, the star looked slightly hesitant. “Wild animals?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll bet there are tons in this area. Wolves, bears… I don’t know much about this realm, so there are probably magical monsters that I’ve never even heard of.”

The star wrapped his arms around himself and glanced around at the edges of the crater.

“Not to mention all the people that are going to be coming after you. I’d imagine that a fallen star is a valuable thing and I doubt that others are going to be as helpful to you as I am.”

The star frowned. “Helpful?”

“I still have this,” Dean said, holding up the remainder of the Angel’s Wing. “If you let me take you back to Lisa, I’ll give you what’s left and you can transport yourself back into the sky. Isn’t that what you want?”

He saw the star’s eyes widen. For a few moments, they stared each other down, both waiting for the other to give. Then the star made a petulant noise and got to his feet. “I’ll go with you. But you have to give me the candle as soon as we get back to your village.”

“It’s a deal.” Dean held out his hand for the star to shake. “I’m Dean. Do you have a name?”

“Castiel,” the star said reluctantly.

“Good. Castiel, then. Let’s get going.”

Castiel crossed his arms. “Excuse me? It’s the middle of the day.”

“It’s barely midmorning, and so what?”

“We can’t travel during the day!”

“Why not?”

Castiel gestured to himself in annoyance. “In case you’ve already forgotten, I’m a star. I sleep during the day.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean muttered. “Sorry to tell you, but that’s not going to work anymore. I want to get back home before next year so we need to start moving.”

Dean started walking, then looked back to see Castiel still standing in the same spot, looking more sullen than ever.

“Do you want the candle or not?”

Castiel scowled and started walking behind him.

It was a struggle to get out of the crater, but when they succeeded at last they found themselves in the middle of a forest that went on in every direction, giving way to mountains in the north and west. Dean couldn’t see anything beyond the trees to the south, but he knew that was the direction to travel. He started picking his way through the flattened forest surrounding the crater.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Castiel asked with a huff of breath.

“Of course I do,” Dean lied.

The forest was thick and wild, so their progress was slow as they fought their way through the underbrush, swatting away branches and bugs and clambering over fallen logs. Dean was relieved when they stumbled upon an overgrown path that went in the general direction they were heading. Castiel complained for much of the morning, but he stopped eventually, either because Dean kept ignoring him or because he was tired. Whichever it was, Dean was relieved.

By the time they stopped at midday, they were both sticky with sweat and covered in pine needles. Dean sat down on a log in the shade, lifting up his aching feet. He opened his knapsack and rummaged through it. He looked up uncertainly to see Castiel watching him from where he sat cross-legged on the forest floor.

“Uh...do you eat?” Dean asked.

“Of course I need to eat,” Castiel scoffed. “At least, I’m assuming that’s what the empty feeling in my stomach means.”

“I didn’t bring enough food for two people,” Dean said. “This won’t last us very long.” He broke off a piece of day old bread and tossed it to Castiel, who examined it for a moment before sinking his teeth into it hungrily. Dean watched him curiously. “Do you mean you’ve never actually been hungry before this?”

“I don’t need to eat when I’m in the sky, do I?”

“Well...why not?”

Castiel rolled his eyes like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I don’t have a body up there.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. Do you think there are just a bunch of people floating around in the sky and shining when it gets dark?”

“Aha, so you _were_ lying about people looking like stars!”

Castiel shot him an annoyed look.

“Hey, I just found out that a star isn’t a lump of metal this morning. So what _are_ you when you’re in the sky?”

“Light,” Castiel said simply.

“And...what are you now?”

Castiel shrugged. “I’m a body. But the light is still inside me, here.” He placed a hand on his chest. “I think.”

Dean leaned forward, curious despite himself. “But how does it work?”

“I don’t know. When stars come to the earth, whether voluntarily or not, they take on a human shape. I don’t know how or why it happens.”

“Do stars come to the earth often?”

“Of course not. Why would we? We’ve got the whole sky up there.” His voice sounded wistful as he tilted his head back. The midday sun blocked out any sight of stars, but Castiel’s eyes were so distant that Dean almost imagined he could see them.

“Then you must be really old, aren’t you?”

“Ancient,” Castiel said. “Nearly as old as this world.”

“But you look like you’re the same age as me! You look eighteen!”

“Do I?” Castiel looked down at himself. “How inconvenient.”

“You don’t even know what you look like?”

“Of course not. I didn’t have a body until last night, remember?” Castiel frowned. “Well, what do I look like?”

“Um.” Dean looked him over. “You’ve got sort of…dark hair. And your eyes are blue. I don’t know, man, find a mirror.”

Castiel looked down at his hand, running the pad of his thumb over the rest of his fingernails. “It’s odd,” he said quietly, lifting his hand to twist a strand of hair between his fingers. “Having a body.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Dean said, unsure of what else to say. “All the rest of us do.”

This answer didn’t seem very satisfactory to Castiel, who scowled at his new hands before biting into his bread again.


	5. Chapter 5

Rowena felt it as soon as the star began moving. She stopped, closing her eyes. When she concentrated, she could faintly sense where the star was; it’s power pulled at her subconscious despite the miles separating them. It moved south, though she couldn’t imagine for what purpose. All the stars that she had encountered had stayed where they landed until Rowena and her sisters found them. Unless somebody else had gotten to it first…

She quickened her pace. Fortunately for her, the star was heading in a direction that would put it directly in her path if she altered her course slightly. She would not give up that star’s heart without a real fight.

Hours of walking later – though it hardly felt like it with magic lending strength to her steps – she crossed paths with a boy driving a wagon pulled by a donkey. She called out to him and he stopped.

“Good morning to you, sir. Might I interest you in a trade?”

The boy squinted at her. “What kind of trade?”

Rowena pulled a coin from the pocket of her robe. “A gold piece for your wagon and donkey.”

He eyed the coin and chewed the inside of his cheek, seeming to be waiting. Rowena sighed, rummaging through her pocket again. Perhaps gold wasn’t worth as much as it had the last time she ventured out into the world.

“ _Two_ gold pieces?”

“Deal,” the boy said, climbing from his wagon. She tossed him the coins, which he pocketed with a grin and continued on his way. Rowena mounted the wagon’s bench and turned the donkey in the direction she wanted to go.

Her progress was faster after this. Halfway through the afternoon, she crested the top of a hill to see a shockingly yellow caravan resting at the bottom with a man nearby crouched over a fire. As she drew closer, the man noticed her approach and stood up, making his yellow eyes plainly visible. A demon. Rowena sighed. Demons were such unsavory company but she didn’t have many options at the moment.

“Who are you?” the demon asked warily.

“Nobody of consequence,” Rowena said, pulling the donkey to a halt and hunching her shoulders to appear less threatening. “And who might you be?”

The demon raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know who I am?” He straightened himself up. “I’m the demon Azazel!”

“Ah, of course.” The name sounded vaguely familiar, though Rowena didn’t think he had ever been particularly powerful. Perhaps that had changed since last she noticed, but she doubted a demon of any real caliber would be living out of a caravan in a valley. “Would you spare some food for a weary traveller?”

Azazel eyed her for another moment, before grunting and crouching back down beside his fire, seeming to judge that he was in no danger from her. “Girl!” he barked, and the door of the caravan opened to reveal a woman with golden hair and a thin silver chain attached to her ankle. She carried out two wooden plates and handed them to Azazel before disappearing back into the caravan. Azazel divided the roots he had been roasting on the fire into two portions, handing one of them to Rowena when she climbed down from her wagon. She settled down beside the fire and used her fingers to eat. The roots were tangier than she expected, but it had been a long time since she had eaten anything.

“What brings you travelling out here?” Azazel asked, eyeing her.

“A star fell from the sky last night,” Rowena said. “I go to find it and cut its heart out to bring back my youth and power.” She frowned; that information was supposed to be secret but it had blurted out of her mouth without even a thought.

“Well that’s the best bit of news I’ve heard in months,” Azazel chuckled. “I could do with a bit of immortality.”

Rowena sniffed at her food and flung what remained into the fire with a snarl. “Limbus grass! You dare steal truth from me?”

Azazel leaned back, unconcerned. “I got the information I wanted.”

“Do you know who I am?” Rowena demanded, straightening up. She could feel power crackling at her fingertips, itching to be set free. “I am Rowena, leader of the Grand Coven and most powerful witch of this age!”

For the first time, uncertainty darkened Azazel’s yellow eyes. “Of course, I would never disrespect you, madam. And I wouldn’t dream of stealing a star from you—”

“You certainly won’t.” Rowena pointed at him and was pleased when he flinched. “From this moment on, you will not see, touch, or in any way perceive the star. And when I leave here, you will forget that you ever saw me.”

Azazel’s eyes widened but he couldn’t look away as Rowena’s spell wrapped around him. When he collapsed onto himself, gasping raggedly, she strode off and remounted her wagon, following the direction that the star pulled her. By the time the wagon had reached the top of the next hill, Azazel had forgotten that she had been there.

She traveled until dusk, by which time she had reached the edge of the forest. There was no use venturing into the trees with her wagon, and the star was coming in her direction anyway, so she stopped. Stepping down from the wagon, she took a few steps backward and cracked her knuckles, preparing herself. Then she muttered under her breath, pointing at the wagon. It expanded, folding over on itself again and again, forming walls and windows and beams and fireplaces, until in its place sat a squat, homely inn. The windows glowed with candlelight and a swinging sign above the door named it as “The Witch’s Familiar Inn,” open for all travellers. With another muttered spell and wave of the hand, the donkey transformed into a vacant-eyed, buck-toothed maid.

Wincing, Rowena looked down at her hands, which had lost the smoothness of youth and were now wrinkled and covered with age spots. She hissed a cursed to herself. This would have to work; she didn’t have much big magic like this left in her.

Beckoning to the donkey maid, she entered the inn and settled down beside the fireplace to wait.

 

* * *

 

Crowley reached at the crater at sundown. His horses and guards were exhausted, but he wouldn’t let them untack and set up a camp. He paced at the top of the empty crater, a low growl building in his throat. Somebody had gotten here first. How? It couldn’t be Abaddon or she would still be here, waiting to ambush him and gloat at her success. Who else would be after the star?

He climbed to the bottom of the crater and circled its perimeter, scanning the hard-packed ground. He found nothing until he reached the center, where he stopped and crouched down. Spots of black wax had dried in uneven lumps, which he scraped off the ground and kneaded between his fingers.

“Angel’s Wing,” he muttered. Whoever beat him here was using magic.

Crowley pulled himself out of the crater and strode toward his men. “We need to find ourselves a sorcerer. Let’s move out.”

The guards looked ready to drop from exhaustion, but they didn’t dare disobey. They mounted their worn out horses as Crowley climbed back into his carriage.

One of the guards spotted tracks going south, so they began their slow journey through the trees, fighting their way for every step. Crowley knew that it was no use searching for the star in the thick wood, but they could still intercept it when it when they emerged on the opposite side. He listened to the grunts of his guards and the swish of underbrush as they wrestled their way through, impatience simmering inside him.

 

* * *

  

Dean was lost, though he would never admit it out loud to Castiel. They had been walking all day in a generally southward direction, but now the sun was down and the trees covered the stars and Dean couldn't even tell which way south was. Not for the first time, he wondered if these woods even had an end.

He stopped, prompting Castiel to stop as well and look at him expectantly, waiting for Dean's next directions. The star’s constant complaining had waned gradually as the day wore on and he saved his energy for walking, and Dean had no desire to start it back up again.

Deciding that if they kept walking they would end up going in the wrong direction, Dean dropped his knapsack on the ground. “We'll stop here for the night.”

Castiel slumped to the ground with a sigh. Opening his bag, Dean pulled out the half eaten loaf and placed it on the log beside him while he searched for more food. There wasn't much left; he hadn't anticipated the journey lasting this long or involving another mouth to feed. He was about a pull out a bruised apple when a chittering noise beside him caught his attention. He turned to see a squirrel scampering away with Dean's bread latched in its jaws.

“Hey!” Dean shouted, springing to his feet. He pointed at Castiel. “Stay here.” Then he dashed after the squirrel, which squeaked and darted across the forest floor with the bread bumping along behind it.

It was a lost cause almost from the very beginning. The squirrel was too fast and agile and Dean was impeded by his size and exhaustion. When it scampered up a tree and disappeared from sight, Dean finally gave up, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Turning around, he realized with an uncomfortable jolt that he had no idea which direction he had come from. He couldn’t have gotten far from where Castiel waited. Cupping his hands over his mouth, he shouted, “Castiel!”

There was no response. He called again with the same result. Uncertainly, he walked a few steps in the direction that he thought he had come from and called again.

Maybe he had run farther than he realized and Castiel was too far away to hear him. Or perhaps the star had given up on Dean being useful to him and left him behind. He should never have left him on his own. Panicking now slightly, Dean broke into a run, crashing through the underbrush and shouting for Castiel over and over again. He had to be here somewhere. Somewhere! If he kept going, surely Castiel would be just beyond that bush…

Instead, he ran into the middle of a narrow dirt trail, directly in the path of a pair of horses pulling a carriage. The coachman shouted and Dean dove out of the way just in time to avoid being trampled by hooves. The carriage creaked to a stop and a scowling, red haired woman peered out the window at him.

“Who are you?” she snapped.

“N-nobody,” Dean stammered, scrambling to his feet and brushing the dirt and pine needles from his clothes. This woman was clearly someone important and he felt like a fool for running into her path.

She unlatched the carriage door and stepped out. She wore a long, black velvet cape with a gold brooch; she was obviously very rich and no doubt powerful. “What’s your name?” she asked.

He swallowed. “Dean.”

“What are you doing running through the forest at night?”

“I’m...looking for someone.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Then we are both seekers. I search for a star.”

Dean opened his mouth then closed it again quickly. He cleared his throat. “A - a star?”

“Yes, a fallen star.” She straightened herself up. “I am Abaddon, rightful heir to the kingdom of Faerie.”

“Oh,” Dean said weakly. “That’s...wow.”

“And who do you seek?”

“Um, just...you know. A friend of mine. We got separated.”

Abaddon nodded shortly. “We are both travellers of the same quest. If you like, I would gladly give you a ride in my carriage to the edge of the forest. It’s going to be a long night, and I smell rain in the air.”

Dean hesitated for half a moment. If he was going to find Castiel again, it probably wasn’t going to be by wandering through the trees calling his name. “Yes, alright.” He followed Abaddon into the carriage.

 

* * *

 

Castiel wasn’t sure how long he sat waiting for Dean to return. Time was difficult to judge in this body. He knew he should be exhausted – and he was; a heavy sort of exhaustion that pulled at his limbs and made his muscles ache – but for the first time since landing on this earth he felt awake. For a very long time he sat with his head tilted back, facing the sky. He couldn’t see his brothers and sisters through the canopy of trees and the dark clouds shrouding the skies, but knowing that they were up there was comforting. During the day, the sun was too bright; it hid the stars and hurt his eyes and made him feel unpleasantly sticky. But now there was nothing but darkness and a cool nighttime wind that slithered through the trees and over his skin.

When the first raindrop landed on his cheek, Castiel gasped. He lifted his hand to wipe it away, rubbing the water between his fingertips curiously. Then another drop hit his neck, then one on his forehead. By the time the rain was beating a steady rhythm on his skin, Castiel had decided that he couldn’t wait here for Dean any longer.

Perhaps Dean had given up on him and decided to return home by himself. Perhaps he had simply gotten lost. Frankly, all Castiel cared about was getting out of the incessant rain. For the first few minutes, the sensation of water sliding over his skin had been pleasant and exciting, but now he was cold and wet and the rain was coming down harder than ever. Thunder rumbled in the clouds, rattling his bones as he stumbled through the trees.

He didn’t know how long he ran, clutching his clothes around himself in a vain attempt to keep himself dry. Rainwater ran into his eyes, making it near impossible to see, which meant that he almost ran headlong into the building that seemed to crop up out of nowhere. Stumbling around the side, he spotted windows that blazed with light. When he found the door, he didn’t hesitate before pounding on it with his fist. Shivering, he looked up to read the hanging sign above the entrance: “The Witch’s Familiar Inn.” An icy rivulet of rainwater ran down his back as the door of the inn creaked open.


	6. Chapter 6

When the knock came on the door of Rowena’s makeshift inn, she almost didn’t hear it over the sound of the rain. She sighed and ambled toward the door. What a nuisance that creating a fake inn would attract real travelers that she would have to take care of.

But when she opened the door, it was no ordinary traveler that met her eyes. Standing on the doorstep, shivering and soaked through, was the star itself, it’s light weak but unmistakable.

“I don’t have money,” it said through chattering teeth.

“Och, no need, laddie,” Rowena said, pouring honey into her voice and standing aside to let it enter. “I couldn’t let someone suffer outside alone in this weather, could I?”

The star smiled gratefully and stepped into the inn.

“What are you doing travelling by yourself on a night like this?” Rowena asked, fetching a blanket to wrap around the star’s shivering shoulders.

“I got separated from the person I was travelling with,” it said. “I’m not sure what to do now.”

Rowena smiled. “No need to worry about that now. I’ll set you up with a nice warm bath and a hot meal and you won’t have to think about a thing tonight.” She gestured to the donkey maid, who stepped forward to take the star’s arm and lead it to the nearest room.

When Rowena followed a few minutes later with a tray of hot soup and sliced bread, the star was already in the bathtub that the maid had set up, its eyes closed and a faint smile on its lips. Rowena set the tray down on the bedside table.

“You take your time there,” she told it. “I’ll be sure that this meal is still warm for you when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” the star said. “You’re being more than kind.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Rowena noticed a faint white glow beginning to emanate from the star as it sank deeper into the bathwater. It was happy - this was exactly what she needed. Its heart would be even more powerful if it was glowing.

She had tucked a knife into her gown underneath her apron, and as she stepped closer to the star her fingers wrapped around its handle. The star’s eyes were closed again and the glow surrounding it pulsated slowly, rhythmically with its breathing.

“Are you travelling far?” she asked, hoping to keep the star’s mind occupied as she drew closer.

“I don’t know. I’m…new to these lands, you might say, so I don’t know the geography well. But I was travelling all day, so I suspect I still have a long way to go.”

“Travelling all day! You must be tired. I’m sure that warm water is doing wonders for your sore muscles.”

The star made a contented noise. “It is. I’ve never had a bath before.”

“I’m happy to be remedying that.” Right beside the tub now, Rowena gripped the knife tightly and lifted it over the star’s bare chest. It was glowing brighter than ever, almost too bright for her to look at directly. “Just relax now.”

A loud knock echoed through the inn. Rowena whipped the knife behind her back as the star’s eyes flew open.

“That must be another traveller,” she said quickly when the star’s brow furrowed. “I’ll go attend to them and then I’ll be back to take care of you.”

She hurried away, tucking the knife back into her gown and cursing whoever had showed up at her door. The knock rang through the inn once more and Rowena called, “I’m coming!” She pulled the door open and was swept to the side as a woman in a soaked black velvet cloak strode inside.

“We’ll need several of your best rooms and space in your stable for our horses.”

Rowena quickly gathered herself, looking outside to see a handful of guards and a bedraggled boy standing in the rain, shivering. “Of course. Your men can take care of your horses, and I’ll have my maid prepare rooms and food for you.”

“Make it quick,” the woman snapped, sitting down in an armchair in front of the blazing fireplace. “You’re speaking to Abaddon, the future ruler of this land.”

“It’s an honor, my lady.” Rowena bowed and strode away, vowing to return to the star as soon as she got the chance.

 

* * *

 

Dean wasn’t sure how he had ended up here, helping Abaddon’s guards untack her horses in the stable of an inn. He was soaking wet from the rainstorm that had come out of nowhere and he wanted nothing more than a warm bed and a roof to cover him. Still, he supposed this was the best place he could be; the inn was at the edge of the forest, and if Castiel happened to wander out of the trees, he would most likely find his way here. Dean would just have to be careful that Abaddon didn’t get to him first.

The maid from the inn appeared in the stable with a tray holding several tankards of ale. The guards each took one, calling their thanks to the girl, who ignored them. She held the last one out to Dean.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting it.

“You're welcome.” The maid’s voice was strangely flat and her eyes were expressionless. Dean watched her as she turned and exited the stable.

He was about to take a sip from the tankard when he heard a strangled groan from one of the guards. The man clutched his throat, dropping his half empty tankard onto the hay, which sizzled and turned black as if it had been burned. The other guards looked down at their drinks in shock before one by one letting out the same groan and falling to the ground.

The tankard fell from Dean’s numb fingers. He quickly darted forward and felt at the closest guard’s throat, but there was no pulse. They were dead.

He burst out of the stable and ran toward the inn, throwing open the door to see Abaddon standing in the parlor, face to face with Castiel himself, wrapped in a grey bathrobe. Castiel’s eyes moved over to lock with Dean’s and his mouth fell into a tiny ‘o.’ At that moment, the innkeeper woman with the strange accent stepped out of nowhere and slid a knife across Abaddon’s throat.

Castiel cried out and stumbled backward as blood sprayed onto his bathrobe. Abaddon’s body thudded to the floor.

“You should have stayed in the bathtub,” the innkeeper hissed, advancing toward Castiel with her dripping knife outstretched. “But this will have to do.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted without thinking. The innkeeper spun around, baring her teeth when she spotted him and pointing at him. Fire shot from her fingertips. Dean dove to the side and the door behind him exploded into flames.

“Don’t get in my way, boy,” the woman snarled. She turned back, but Castiel had scrambled away from her and dashed to the back door. Dean could see him struggling with the handle, but it must have been locked because he kicked it with a frustrated shout. The innkeeper pointed to him, sending flames flying toward the back door. Castiel managed to duck in time as the wood crackled and burned. “Stay still, won’t you?” the innkeeper screeched, trying to follow Castiel with her finger as he ran along the far wall.

“Castiel, come toward me!” Dean shouted. Flames spread across the room, consuming one side of the inn already and moving to cut off all exits. Dean could feel its heat curling the hairs at the back of his head.

For once, the star did as Dean asked, breaking away from the burning wall and running directly toward the innkeeper. She howled and lifted up her knife to strike. Ducking just in time, Castiel pushed past her. Dean fumbled through his bag, one hand closing around the lump of wax inside. With his other arm, he reached out. “Take my hand and think of home!”

The innkeeper was right behind him, but Castiel dove, his fingers finding Dean’s just as Dean plunged the hand holding the Angel’s Wing into the flames beside him. As the burning inn disappeared around them, the last thing Dean saw was the innkeeper’s furious face as she brought her knife down where their bodies had been a split second before.


	7. Chapter 7

For a few seconds, the only concrete thing Castiel could feel was Dean’s hand gripping his. In that moment, he was a star again, hurtling through space, no physical body to tether him in place. It was a strangely terrifying feeling.

Then the feeling returned to the rest of his body and he was hit with a blast of cold, wet air. Water flew into his eyes, blinding him, and he held onto Dean’s hand tighter, unsure of his footing.

“Where are we?” Castiel shouted over a high-pitched howling sound that he realized was the wind. With his free hand, he wiped rainwater from his eyes, but all he could see was swirling grey and black and blue. A deep rumble that he recognized as thunder shuddered through him, seeming to come from the very ground beneath his feet. Beside him, Dean tried to take a step but almost fell instead. Instead of solid ground beneath their feet, Castiel could only see wispy, swirling grey.

“Oh, God,” Dean groaned. He leaned over to where the grey stuff gave away to open air. Far, far below Castiel could see a glimpse of green. Dean looked at Castiel, his face pale. “We’re on a cloud.”

“A cloud?” Castiel demanded, hearing his voice pitch higher with fear. Wind whipped at his bathrobe and he hugged it tighter around himself. “How…?” Then he closed his eyes, understanding. “We both thought of home. You thought of your home on the earth and I thought of mine in the sky. We ended up halfway between the two.”

“Why would I be telling you to think of your home in the sky?” Dean shouted, finally pulling his hand out of Castiel’s to throw them up in exasperation.

“You told me to think of home and that’s what I did! You should have been more specific!”

“Do you want me to give you detailed, step by step instructions next time we’re about to be stabbed to death by a crazy innkeeper?”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly!” Castiel yelled. Then he saw Dean’s hand, covered in hardening black wax. “The Angel’s Wing. Where is it?”

Dean looked down at the wax. “It’s gone.”

Castiel’s eyes widened and his voice practically squeaked as he shouted, “What do you mean, _it’s gone_?”

“It’s melted. We used it all up!”

“You were supposed to use that to send me back home!”

“I know, I know! But I didn’t have much of a choice back there!”

Castiel had never been angry before, not in this body, and it was shocking to feel the heat of fury that shot through him. His hands shook and he felt like he might burst. “You promised me!” To emphasize his point, he shoved Dean, sending him stumbling backward a few steps. “You were going to send me back home. You _promised_!”

“Watch it!” Dean teetered near the edge of the cloud, his arms windmilling. His face went sheet-pale when he glanced down at the earth miles and miles below.

Castiel couldn’t think through his anger. “Maybe you should have watched it before you ruined my only chance of getting off this stupid earth!” He shoved Dean again, and this time when Dean stumbled back, his foot hit open air. In the split second that it took for both of them to realize that he was falling, Dean had reached up and seized the collar of Castiel’s bathrobe, pulling him down with him.

For the second time in as many days, Castiel was falling. It didn’t feel like before though, and this time it was over almost as soon as it began. Castiel hadn’t even properly processed the fact that he was about to die when his body thudded against something hard, wooden, and slippery with rain.

Bursts of light flashed in front of Castiel’s eyes and he found that he didn’t have any air left in his lungs. When his vision cleared, he couldn’t move, only stare upward at the faces crowding around him. He turned his head and saw Dean beside him, groaning.

Muttering voices reached his ears over the sound of raining splattering on wood. Then hands hauled both of them to their feet and a gruff voice shouted in his ear, “Where did they come from?”

A scowling woman peered from underneath a rain-slicked hood into Castiel’s face. “They fell from above.”

“Raiders!” a new voice yelled.

“Walker, shut up,” the woman snapped. “We don’t know anything about them. We need to ask the captain.”

“To the captain!” a number of voices echoed, and before either of them could speak, Dean and Castiel were shoved through a crowd of people wrapped in ponchos. The woman seized the shoulder of Castiel’s bathrobe, as if to make sure he stayed in place, and pounded on a door. A voice from inside answered and the woman opened the door, pushing the two of them inside.

A surly looking man with a scruffy beard stood up from a desk in the middle of a wide room with windows all along the far end and books lining all the available wall space. The woman, who had followed them inside, shut the door behind them, drowning out the sounds of the storm and the crowd outside.

“Captain Singer,” she said, grabbing both Castiel and Dean by the arm. “These two fell onto our deck just now.”

The man crossed his arms, his frown deepening. “They don’t look like raiders, do they?”

“I didn’t think so, sir, but we can’t be too careful.”

“Well?” The man looked from Castiel to Dean keenly. “Who are you?”

“Wh-what?” Dean stammered, seeming to be handling the situation about as well as Castiel. “Where are we?”

“You’re on my ship, of course.”

“But…” Dean shook his head. “We were falling. We were in the _sky_ , not the ocean.”

The man let out a short bark of a laugh. “This ship doesn’t sail the ocean, boy. It sails the open skies!”

Castiel could see by the look on Dean’s face that this was as new to him as it was to Castiel. “Is…is that common in this realm?”

“Common enough.”

“But…” Dean frowned. “Why?”

“We gather lightning to sell, among other things. We’re pirates, you might say.”

“Pirates,” Dean repeated. He looked at Castiel, who just shook his head back, unsure of what to say.

“You’re not from this realm, are you?” When Dean shook his head, the man looked at the woman who still held both of them tightly. “Jody, I don’t think these boys are any danger to us. They’re nothing more than lost travellers, not raiders. You can let them go and inform the rest of the crew.”

She nodded and released them, stepping out of the room to the storm outside. The man stepped out from behind his desk and held his hand out.

“Captain Bobby Singer. My crew may be rough pirates, but they’re good people. No harm will come to you aboard my ship if you do no harm to us.”

Castiel shook the man’s hand. “Castiel.”

“Dean Winchester,” Dean said, following suit.

Captain Singer stopped in the middle of shaking Dean’s hand. “Winchester? You’re not from Lawrence, are you?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “I am! How did you know?”

“I knew your father. In fact, I come from Lawrence myself.”

Dean let out a surprised laugh. “You’re not the Bobby Singer that Ellen always talks about, are you?”

The captain barked out a gruff laugh. “Ellen Harvelle is still around, is she? I’m glad to hear she still remembers my name.” He took Dean’s arm and led him further into the cabin with Castiel trailing behind. The three of them sat in the worn armchairs in the corner and Singer offered them warm tea, which Castiel gladly accepted. Dean leaned forward in his seat, clearly eager to be meeting someone from his home.

“What are you doing here if you’re from Lawrence, Captain Singer?” Dean asked.

“Oh, call me Bobby. I crossed the wall for a bit of adventure and liked the taste of it, so I stayed. But I’m more curious about what you’re doing here and how you ended up falling onto my deck.”

Dean glanced at Castiel, who cleared his throat and said, “It’s a long story.”

Bobby’s gaze turned to Castiel. “You’re not from Lawrence, are you?”

Castiel squirmed under Bobby’s eyes. “No. I’m…nobody.”

“Nobody, hm? Do you come from this realm?”

“Yes.” The lie felt heavy and obvious on Castiel’s tongue. His gaze flickered over to Dean, hoping he would get the clue about why he was hiding the truth. After their run-in with the murderous innkeeper, he didn’t want to take the chance of anyone else knowing his secret. Who knew who else was on the hunt for a fallen star? Dean gave him an almost imperceptible nod, showing that he understood.

Bobby wasn’t finished, though. Leaning forward in his seat, he asked. “Who’s your family? Anyone I would know?”

“I don’t have any family,” Castiel said quickly.

“He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Dean cut in.

“Alright, then.” With a smile, Bobby turned back to Dean. “And what about your family? How’s your father?”

Dean cleared his throat and looked down at the teacup on his lap. “He died four years ago.”

Bobby was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry. He was a good man. And what about your mother?”

Dean looked up quickly. “You knew my mother?”

“Only a bit. I left soon after she married your father. She was pregnant at the time, with you I’m guessing.”

Dean let out a short breath and blinked quickly. “I never really knew her. She’s been gone for almost as long as I can remember.”

“That’s a shame,” Bobby said quietly. “She was a good woman. She came from this realm, you know.”

“I know.” Dean frowned. “Dad almost never talked about her. What was she like?”

“She was kind…but tough. She never talked about where she came from in this realm, but I don’t think it was anywhere good. She struggled to fit in to that world but she was stronger than most.”

Dean sat back and Castiel saw dampness in his eyes. He had the sudden urge to reach out, as if that would offer some comfort, but he stopped himself. Dean would probably give him an odd look and shrug him away.

“I’m sorry about your family, Dean,” Bobby said. “Is it just you now?”

“No, I have a brother.” A smile stole onto Dean’s face. “Sam. He’s real smart, and kind too, like…” He broke off and swallowed hard. “Like my mother.”

“I’m glad. It’s no good being alone in this world, or any.” Bobby looked between the two of them. “And now I’d like to know how the two of you ended up on my deck in the middle of a storm while we’re in flight.”

“Well…” Dean said slowly. Castiel hoped he remembered to lie. “We were travelling, you know. We had an incident with an Angel’s Wing and somehow landed on top of a cloud.”

“You have an Angel’s Wing?” Bobby asked, frowning.

“Not anymore,” Castiel muttered. Dean glanced at him ruefully, then down at the black wax still clinging to his hand.

“We used it all up. We were supposed to use it to send Castiel home—” Dean froze as he realized his mistake. Castiel looked at him sharply as Bobby’s eyes narrowed.

“Where’s home? We could take you there if it’s not too far out of our way.”

Castiel’s mouth was dry. “North,” he managed. “Far.”

“We’re actually going back to Lawrence,” Dean said quickly. “I think that’s south, isn’t it? I don’t know where we ended up.”

Bobby rubbed his bearded chin. “Yes, it’s south. Lucky for you, we’re heading south now to a port about a day’s walk from the wall. If you want, we can take you that far.”

“That would be perfect,” Dean said eagerly. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’ll find you some dry clothes and blankets and you can get some rest.”

Before long, they were set up on the floor of Bobby’s cabin, wearing dry clothes donated – or, more likely, coerced – from the crew and wrapped in blankets. As Bobby went out into the storm to relay orders to his crew, Dean and Castiel settled down, munching the biscuits Bobby had left for them. Castiel found it difficult to eat with the ship rolling beneath him; it made his stomach flip over on itself and wouldn’t let him settle. Every time a new gust of wind rocked the ship or a peal of thunder rumbled through the sky, he found himself tensing, waiting to be send falling through the air once again.

Dean lay on his side, facing away from Castiel, who was sitting up with his arms wrapped around his knees. Castiel thought he was asleep, but eventually Dean rolled over and looked at him.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Castiel tightened his arms around his knees. “I’m a star, remember? I’m supposed to spend the night awake and shining. Besides…” He shuddered. “All this movement is too much.”

Dean grinned, propping himself up on his elbow. “I thought you’d be used to being this high up.”

“Of course I am,” Castiel grumbled. “I’m not used to being shaken back and forth at the whim of a storm.”

“Oh, you’ll get used to it.” Dean’s eyes caught Castiel’s for a moment and the grin slid off his face. He dropped his eyes and picked at the edge of the blanket. “I’m…sorry. I shouldn’t have used the last of that candle. Even though it did save our lives.”

Castiel was quiet for a few moments. “We’ll find another candle.” He paused. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you off the cloud. Even if it did bring us here.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he let out a disbelieving laugh. “Please! You couldn’t have known that we’d land on the deck of a flying pirate ship. At least my intentions were noble.”

“Yes, noble is exactly the word I was thinking,” Castiel muttered sarcastically. He sighed. “I suppose you’ll want to thank you.”

“Some appreciation would be nice.”

“Thank you, then. You saved my life.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth quirked into a smile. “I’m sure you’ll find some way of returning the favor.”

“I’m already letting you take me to your girlfriend, aren’t I?”

Dean’s smile dropped fractionally. “That’s right.”

Castiel ran a hand over the blanket covering his legs. It was woolen and scratchy, but pleasantly heavy and warm. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Really? I usually talk about him all the time. People find it annoying. I’m surprised I haven’t mentioned him before.”

“Well there’s wasn’t much opportunity to talk before.”

“I don’t know, I remember you yelling at me a lot.”

A smile found its way onto Castiel’s lips. “That’s fair.”

Dean rolled onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. “He’s the reason I’m doing all this. I mean, travelling into a different realm to find a fallen star.”

“I thought it was so that you could marry...what’s her name? Lisa?”

“Yeah. It is, but I’m doing it for Sam.”

Castiel frowned, not following.

“Lisa’s dad is pretty rich, and Sam and I…aren’t. But if I marry Lisa, that’ll change. We won’t have to worry so much about feeding ourselves every day. Sam can continue his studies, which is what he wants.”

Castiel was quiet for a few moments, taking this in. “Maybe noble is the right word after all.”

“I don’t think so,” Dean snorted.

“I thought you were doing this to convince a girl to marry you, but it isn’t for yourself. It’s for your brother.”

“That’s not noble,” Dean said. “That’s what family does.”

“Family,” Castiel repeated. He knew objectively what that was, but Dean seemed to mean more than simply shared blood.

“Don’t you have a family up there in the sky?”

“I suppose the other stars are my family, if you could call it that.” He paused. “But I don’t know that they would do something like this for me, or I for them.”

“Then they’re not true family,” Dean said with conviction. “Family means you’d do anything for them.”

“Mmm.” Frowning, Castiel lay back, pulling his blankets up to his chin. Dean took this as a sign that the conversation was done and rolled over, but Castiel turned his words over in his head again and again. Silently, he mouthed the word again. _Family_. The word felt good in his mouth, and he smiled.

 

* * *

 

Crowley found the remains of the inn when he reached the edge of the forest in the morning. His carriage had gotten stuck in a mud-filled pothole last night, forcing him to stop and spent the night huddling away from the rain inside the carriage while his guards fended for themselves outside. In the morning, they dug the carriage free and continued on their way. Now, Crowley was sleep deprived and cranky and ready to slit his cousin’s throat.

Unfortunately, somebody had beaten him to it. Among the soggy and blackened foundations of the inn, his guards uncovered the bodies of Abaddon’s guards, until one of them called out, “My lord!” Crowley strode over to find Abaddon herself, blood covering her face and neck, her eyes open but sightless. A smile curved his lips, but he felt a slight sting of bitterness that somebody had taken the satisfying deed away from him.

Now there was nothing standing between him and finding the star. With no one else pursuing it, how hard could it be? He had his guards spend another hour sifting through the rubble, but they found no more bodies. Perhaps the star had been here, perhaps not. Crowley would find out when he got to the next big city and hired a sorcerer to track it down. It was only a matter of time before the star’s heart was his.

 

* * *

 

Rowena was right back where she started and she was furious. After the star and the boy disappeared with a flash of Angel’s Wing magic, she felt it fly far, far out of her reach. She had been so close, and thwarted by a _boy_. What could he possibly want with a star anyway? She sensed that he wasn’t from this world, so how could he know of the power it would bestow him?

She had stood in her burning inn until there was barely anything of it left, finding a grim satisfaction in watching it crumble around her. Then she had fetched her wagon and turned the maid back into a donkey, traveling south, pulled by that distant power of the star’s unclaimed heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry about the long wait. Between the new semester starting, some huge and possibly life changing deadlines coming up, and some pretty horrific stuff going on in the world, I haven't had much time or energy to write. But things are looking a little better now and I hopefully won't make you wait this long anymore!

Morning found Dean on the deck of Bobby's ship, trembling like the sails in the wind and clinging to mast as if it was the only thing preventing him from falling to his death. Minutes before, he had sauntered out of Bobby’s cabin, wearing new clothes under his dad’s old familiar leather jacket, only to cast a brief glance over the side of the ship and feel his stomach heave. He hadn't really thought about how high up they were last night, but now that he could see the green hills miles and miles and _miles_ below them, he was struck with waves of dizziness. He had never been up this high before and he was quickly realizing that he was _not_ good with heights. At least when the only thing holding them up was a few beams of wood nailed together, likely to fall apart at any second.

Infuriatingly, Castiel was unaffected. He smirked at Dean's discomfort and leaned over the railing until Dean closed his eyes and looked away, his stomach lurching. Castiel, like Dean, wore new clothes, including a tan trench coat that was several sizes too large. He seemed to love it, though, and Dean doubted he was planning on taking it off anytime soon. 

Bobby appeared out of nowhere, clapping Dean on the back. "Ah, you'll get your air legs soon enough," he laughed.

"It's not my legs I'm worried about," Dean muttered. "It's my stomach." Already, he could feel the breakfast he had eaten in Bobby’s cabin rising up inside him.

Bobby’s crew had been meandering around, clearly not trying to stare at the newcomers but failing, their curiosity plain on their faces. Turning to them, Bobby said, “We’ll be giving these boys a lift as far as the South Forest port. If anyone’s got a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”

“So…they’re not raiders,” one man said, looking confused.

“Of course they’re not, Ed, you idiot,” the man standing next to him snapped. “Didn’t you hear anything the captain said?”

The woman who had grabbed them the night before rolled her eyes and stepped forward, holding a hand out to Castiel. “Welcome aboard, boys. Jody Mills, first mate.”

Castiel shook her hand, and Dean pulled himself away from the mast for long enough to do the same.

“Thank you,” Castiel said when Dean was silent. “We’ll try not to be a burden.”

Once Dean regained the ability to walk on the deck (as long as he didn’t venture too near the sides of the ship), Bobby put to work alongside the rest of the crew. Dean had never been on a ship before this – let alone a flying one – and the only things he knew about them were from Sam’s books. But he and Castiel learned quickly, thanks to the not-so-gentle coaching of the crew. They were thrown into work alongside seasoned sailors who were older and stronger than them, but Dean put everything he had into it, and he could tell that Castiel was doing the same. Neither of them complained, only catching each other’s eyes every now and again to exchange exhausted looks. By the time Dean lay down on the floor of Bobby’s cabin that night, his muscles were groaning.

The next morning, the pirates stopped at a port to sell the lightning they had collected from the other night’s storm. Bobby allowed Dean and Castiel to come ashore along with Jody and a handful of other crewmembers. While the pirates conducted their business, the two of them wandered around the marketplace, wondering at the trinkets displayed at the colorful stalls. These things – tiny, intricate glass flowers, twinkling lights captured on dangling strings, cages holding animals that Dean couldn’t name – were beyond anything he could have imagined back home.

“Let me see that amulet,” a woman at a booth said, pointing to Dean. He started when he realized she was speaking to him, then again when he looked at her properly. Her eyes were completely white, no iris or pupil or any color at all. She grinned at his surprise. “Wondering how I could see it?”

“Uh…yes?” Dean said, making it into a question. He glanced at Castiel, who smiled at him over the monkey he was scratching a few booths over.

“You don’t always need eyes to see, sweetheart,” the woman said. “Come here. Let me see that.”

Hesitating for only a second, Dean stepped closer to the woman’s booth until she was close enough to reach out and touch the amulet hanging around his neck. As soon as her fingers touched it, she gasped and dropped it.

“Where did you get that?”

“My mother gave it to my father. It’s supposed to be good luck.”

“Good luck,” she repeated, sounding like she was talking to herself. “Yes, good luck, but also darkness. There’s dark magic surrounding that amulet.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, leaning forward.

“Come on, Pam, no need to scare the boy.” Bobby appeared at Dean’s side, giving the woman a reproachful look.

Her face cleared immediately, transforming into a wide grin. “Bobby Singer, as I live and breath. How are you, you pirate?”

“Same as ever,” Bobby said gruffly. “Stopped by for business, as usual.”

“Business indeed.” Pam leaned forward and spoke conspiratorially. “Have you heard the news? There’s supposed to be a fallen star on the loose. Some very important people are after it.”

Dean stiffened, carefully keeping his eyes on Pam instead of looking to see where Castiel had wandered. Bobby’s tone was almost uninterested. “Is that so?”

“Thought you might be interested in that. You know how much a fallen star can be worth.”

“And you know how many of these rumors are just _rumors_.”

“Excuse me,” Dean muttered, stepping away from Pam’s booth. He looked around until he spotted Castiel chatting with the owner of the monkey he had been petting. Dean strode toward him, grabbed his elbow, and quickly steered him away.

“Oh, hello Dean. Did you know that there are monkeys you can train to talk?” Castiel said, oblivious. “Isn’t that interesting? There’s so much I don’t know about this world.”

“Very interesting.” Dean led him away from the bustle of the marketplace and behind a caravan that seemed to be empty. “Cas, everyone knows about you.”

Castiel frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that there’s a fallen star! They’re all talking about it.”

“Of course they are. Fallen stars aren’t exactly common, and we’ve very valuable. But as long as nobody knows that it’s _me_ , we’re fine. I look like a human.”

“But what if someone finds out?”

“They won’t, as long as we’re both quiet about it.”

Dean hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Dean.” Cas nodded once, resolutely. “I’ll be fine.”

Dean exhaled slowly and released some of the tension in his shoulders. “What’s so valuable about a star anyways?”

“My heart.” Cas placed a hand over his chest. “The heart of a star is a powerful thing. It can grant someone immortality or the authority to rule a realm.”

“That’s why Abaddon was going after you,” Dean said, understanding.

“And I’m sure that innkeeper woman wanted it for the immortality part. She was obviously a witch.”

“What are they going to do, carve your heart out?” Dean shuddered.

“Essentially,” Castiel said gravely. “Which is why I’m glad that you’re the one who found me. Being used as a wedding gift is just barely preferable to having my heart torn out.”

It took Dean a moment to realize that Castiel was teasing him. He let out a surprised laugh and was about to retort when he heard Bobby calling their names. “Come on, we don’t want to miss our ride.”

 

* * *

 

When Bobby discovered that night that neither Dean nor Castiel knew how to fence, he spent a full five minutes grumbling about “what have you been _doing_ all this time?” before finding two wooden practice swords to give to them. He showed them the basics, with the rest of the crew lounging around on deck watching. Before long, he had moved on from demonstrating lunges and parries to having them spar with a few of the crewmembers. The pirates seemed eager for an opportunity to show off their skills to the newcomers and showed them no mercy.

To Dean’s annoyance, Castiel picked up the skill almost immediately, while Dean struggled with keeping his grip on the sword when somebody else hit theirs against it. As Castiel fenced with Jody, the best swordsman on the ship apart from Bobby, Dean couldn’t even defend himself against the likes of Ed and Harry, who were widely accepted as the most incompetent pirates in the realm.

“It’s not that hard, Dean,” Castiel said in an infuriatingly condescending voice after Harry disarmed him for the third time. “You have to anticipate what he’s going to do?”

“Oh, that’s all, is it?” Dean picked up his sword and swung around to face Castiel. “ _En guard!_ ”

Castiel laughed. “You don’t actually have to say that.”

Dean waved his sword tauntingly. “Bring it on.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel lunged. They fenced for a few minutes, Dean giving it everything he had. He could tell that Cas was going easy on him, which was endlessly irritating since they were both supposed to be beginners. After a while, though, they relaxed into a steady, easy back and forth, with Cas letting Dean press his advantage a few times, even land a few soft touches. Dean grinned at Cas, whose narrowed eyes softened into a smile in return. He thought he noticed a faint glow surrounding the star.

“I think that’s enough,” Bobby said, and they stopped. “It’s not a challenge if you just fight each other.”

“It was pretty challenging for me,” Dean muttered.

“Keep practicing and maybe someday you’ll catch up,” Cas said patronizingly. Dean shot him a glare, wishing he was close enough to punch his shoulder. The glow around Cas had disappeared; Dean guessed that he had been imagining it anyways.

Later that night, Dean sat with Bobby in his chamber, enjoying a cup of tea with the captain while Castiel browsed the multitudes of books on his shelves. Bobby had been telling Dean stories about the people he knew back in Lawrence, but now a peaceful quiet had fallen. Castiel was humming to himself as he thumbed through a book, and for the second time that night Dean saw a dim light glowing around him.

“I know that your friend is a star,” Bobby said quietly. Dean almost dropped his teacup.

“Wh-what?” he demanded, too quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t worry,” Bobby murmured, putting his hand up. “I have no plans to hurt either of you. As long as you’re on my ship, you’ll be safe with me and my crew.”

Dean glanced at Cas, who couldn’t hear the conversation from across the room. “Why?” he asked Bobby.

“I’m not interested in power or immortality. And I don’t like the idea of cutting out an innocent heart to get it. I like you, Dean, and I like Castiel. I promise that you’re safe here.”

Dean nodded, letting some of the tension out of his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“You’re going to have to tell him to control his emotions better, though. He’s been glowing all evening.”

“Why is that happening?”

“Because he’s happy.” Bobby stood up with a long groan. “I should check on my crew. Go talk to him.”

Bobby left the cabin, murmuring a word of goodnight to Cas. Setting his tea down, Dean crossed to the bookshelf where Cas was engrossed in a leather bound book. Cas looked up; his smile widened and the glow around him got brighter when he saw Dean.

“It’s fascinating how many amazing things there are in this world, isn’t it?” Castiel said. “I’m beginning to see why so many of you tolerate living down here.”

“Cas,” Dean said quietly, moving closer to the star even though there was no one in the room to overhear him. “Bobby knows what you are.”

The glow around Castiel disappeared in a blink, along with his smile. “Did you tell him?”

“Of course not. But you’ve been glowing.”

Cas looked down at himself. “I’m not glowing.”

“You were just a moment ago. Bobby said it’s because you’re happy.”

Cas frowned. “So I’m not allowed to be happy or people will find out that I’m a star?”

“You just need to control it. I don’t know how, but that’s what Bobby told me.”

Hesitating for a moment, Cas nodded and exhaled slowly. “What’s Bobby going to do?”

“Nothing. He promised that you’re safe here.”

“Do you trust him?”

Dean nodded. “I do. And even if he’s lying, I won’t let them get to you.”

Cas smiled, just barely. “How are you going to do that? With your amazing fencing skills?”

“Oh, shut up.” Dean rolled his eyes

“I’m probably going to have to protect you,” Cas teased, bumping Dean with his shoulder.

“Whatever.” Dean grinned. “You’re glowing again.”

“Oops,” Cas said, though he made no attempt to stop it.

 

* * *

 

Crowley had been travelling for days, stopping in each city he came across and searching for sorcerers. He found plenty – sorcerers were not a rare commodity in this realm – but none that would help him. News of the star had spread, and as soon as each sorcerer learned that Crowley was searching for it as well, they made themselves scarce. They didn’t even seem to care that he was the rightful king; one even laughed in his face when he told him. Crowley gritted his teeth and kept travelling, vowing to himself to come back through these cities when he was king and have them all executed for treason.

Several days after leaving behind the burned inn and Abaddon’s body, he ended up in a street marketplace in a tiny city where pirates and thieves came to sell their goods. He hated the place immediately, but he knew that if anyone would know the whereabouts of a star, it would probably be the criminal underbelly of the realm, no matter how distasteful their hideaways were. He sent most of his guards away on the search for information, keeping two at his side as he wandered through the filthy marketplace.

“Your fortune for a coin, my lord,” a voice said. Crowley turned to see a woman with pure white eyes leaning over her booth. He stepped toward her.

“A coin?” He dug through his pocket and flipped a coin into the air. Her hand shot out to catch it without her sightless eyes leaving his face. “Tell me what I need to know.”

“Come closer,” the woman said. “Give me your hand.”

Crowley rolled his eyes as he let the woman run her fingers over his palm.

“Skepticism doesn’t help my work,” she murmured with a smile.

“Bloody well get on with it,” Crowley growled.

The woman closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Her voice took on a dreamy quality. “You will find what you seek aboard a ship.”

“A ship?” Crowley demanded. “What ship? Where is it?”

She opened her eyes and peered at him reproachfully. “Another coin, my lord?”

With a noise of frustration, Crowley slammed another coin onto the counter of her booth.

“I see…a singer. I see a reunion. I see a heart that’s ready to be claimed.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything!” Crowley snapped. “Enough riddles. Where do I need to go?”

The woman raised her eyebrows expectantly and Crowley dropped a pouch of money onto the counter.

“South,” she said immediately, scooping the pouch into her hand. “You’ll go south, to the port by the border forest.”

Crowley gestured to his men and strode away, letting a smile creep onto his face for the first time in days.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean and Cas spent a week on Bobby’s ship, travelling south and stopping at a number of ports along the way. Their time was spent working alongside the crew, practicing fencing, and dining with Bobby in his cabin. Each day, Dean felt himself getting a little stronger from all the work he was doing. His fencing skills gradually grew until he was able to fence Castiel without making a total fool of himself. He was even able to stand near the edge of the deck without growing dizzy.

They spent time with the crew, talking while they worked and sometimes spending meals with them. All of them were curious about this land that Dean came from which their captain had apparently lived in too, and Dean was happy to tell them about the world on the other side of the wall. The crew was surprised to hear that they didn’t have things like flying ships and witches in Dean’s world, which dampened their excitement slightly.

Castiel stayed tight-lipped about where he came from around the crew and they respected that. Dean had to wonder, though, if any of them suspected the truth. Sometimes he saw Jody looking at Cas in a way that made Dean certain that she knew, but he didn’t ask. Bobby told him he could trust the crew, and Dean trusted Bobby. Still, he never completely let his guard down, wary that someone might turn around and betray them for the power and wealth that Cas’ heart would grant them.

He was glad Cas didn’t seem to be thinking about this. Better to let him believe that he was surrounded by good-hearted people than by people who might want to kill him if they knew what he was. Dean could worry about that on his own.

At last, the ship reached the South Forest port, the closest port to the wall separating the two realms. Bobby gave them a map to follow to the village near the wall. It was only about a day’s walk from here; they could spend the night on the road and reach Lawrence by noon the next day.

They gave hugs to all the crewmembers that they had grown close to over the past week, accepting their wishes of good luck with smiles. Finally, at the top of the gangplank leading to the port below, they faced Bobby.

“Take care of yourselves,” Bobby told them sternly, shaking Cas’ hand. “There are still people out there searching for you.”

“We’ll be careful,” Dean promised. Bobby held his hand out to him, but Dean ignored it and threw his arms around Bobby’s neck, squeezing him into a tight hug. He heard a collective gasp from the crew behind him, especially when Bobby lifted his arms to hug him back.

“Say hello to Lawrence for me,” Bobby muttered as Dean let him go.

“I will.” Dean straightened his jacket and turned to follow Cas down the gangplank. Before he could, though, Bobby grabbed his elbow.

“Remember, Dean, that an unclaimed heart is a dangerous and powerful thing,” Bobby murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

“I know how valuable Cas’ heart is,” Dean whispered back.

“It’s not his heart that I’m referring to.” Bobby gave Dean a pointed look.

As Dean tried to work out what Bobby was telling him, Cas called, “Dean, are you coming?”

Bobby let go of Dean’s arm, allowing him to walk down the gangplank after Cas.

The port they had ended up in was a bustling riverside town, bigger than any town Dean had ever been in. Part of him wanted to stay here for a while and explore, but Castiel reminded him that they had to start moving if they wanted to reach Lawrence tomorrow.

“Don’t you want to see Lisa again?” Cas asked.

“Oh.” It took Dean a moment to remember. “Yeah, I guess so.” He quickly reminded himself that _that_ was what he was doing this for. He tore his eyes away from a shop that sold books of homemade spells and followed Castiel down the crowded street.

 

* * *

 

Crowley reached the South Forest port in the morning. This had to be the place that the psychic woman had told him to go – it was the furthest south port in the realm. He spent hours prowling the city’s streets, splitting up his guards to find any sign of the star. It would blend it, so he examined everyone he passed for any hint that they didn’t belong here. A number of ships arrived at the port throughout the morning and he posted a guard to watch each of them.

Around noon, he was skulking near the port when he heard a voice calling out to a Captain Singer. Crowley froze. What was it that the psychic had mentioned? A singer. It was a stretch, but this could be what he was looking for. He spun around, scanning the people around him.

“Captain!” the person called again, and Crowley followed the sound until he spotted a squat man with a scruffy beard raising his hand in answer. Captain Singer stood at the bottom of a gangplank, about to board his ship.

Crowley grabbed the guard nearest to him. “Gather the men,” he hissed. “We have a ship to raid.”

Within a few minutes, all of Crowley’s guards were gathered at the base of Singer’s gangplank. Crowley hung back as his men boarded Singer’s ship with loud shouts, taking the crew by surprise. “No mercy!” Crowley bellowed from the back, waving his sword in the air.

He stayed out of the thick of the fray, avoiding swinging blades and shouts of rage and agony. Then he spotted Captain Singer on the fringe and fought his way through until they were sword against sword. Crowley had always considered himself a master swordsman, but this Singer was better than anyone he had come up against. Still, Crowley pressed hard until he had Singer backed against the mast.

“Tell me where the star is,” he growled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Singer spat.

“I will tear this ship apart!”

Singer’s beard twitched into a smile. “I don’t think you’re the one who should be making demands here.”

Crowley glanced over his shoulder to see Singer’s crew surrounding what was left of his guards. He ground his teeth and stepped back, dropping his sword.

“Now, who are you and what do you want with the star?” Singer demanded.

Crowley straightened up and looked down his nose at Singer. “I am your rightful king. I intend to cut out its heart and take my place on the throne.”

“Not on my watch.” Singer nodded to a few of his crewmembers. “Tie him up.”

Before they could grab him, Crowley ducked out of reach of Singe’s sword and made a dash for the side of the ship. Shouts followed him as he dove overboard, falling dozens of feet until he slammed into the river below. Furious, humiliated, and alone, he swam away, vowing to himself that he wouldn’t let anything get in his way from now on.

 

* * *

 

Castiel and Dean had only left the city about twenty minutes before when Dean paused, grabbing Castiel’s elbow, his head cocked to the side. Castiel opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Dean held a finger to his lips. A second later, Castiel heard it too – hoofbeats on the road behind them.

“We can’t be too careful,” Dean said, hurrying to the side of the road, which was fringed with thick bushes. He stepped into a bush, disappearing instantly from view, and Castiel followed suit. They crouched there, so close they were practically nose to nose, hemmed in by bushes on all sides. Castiel peered through to see a horseman in all black gallop past, his cloak flying out behind him.

“Wonder where he’s off to in such a hurry,” Dean muttered. Castiel started to stand up, but Dean grabbed his sleeve. “Wait. We should stay here a moment. In case anyone else comes.”

“Alright.” Castiel crouched back down again, looking away from the road to find Dean’s eyes in the semidarkness. This close, they looked even brighter green than ever. They waited in silence for a moment. Castiel almost didn’t dare breathe, but not for fear of giving them away to anyone on the road. Dean was so close that he felt like any breath might blow him away.

Then, without thinking, Castiel whispered, “Aren’t you tempted?”

Dean blinked. “By what?”

Castiel immediately wanted to take the question back, but he screwed up his courage and kept going. “You have all the wealth and power you could possibly want right in front of you.” He placed a hand over his heart almost self-consciously. It’s familiar beat was comforting. “You could have eternal life. All you’d have to do is reach out and take it.”

Dean recoiled slightly. “And kill you? I hope you know me well enough by now to know that I could never do that, Cas.”

“But say it wasn’t me,” Castiel urged, not sure why he wanted to know but determined to find out anyway. “If it was some star you didn’t know, would you be tempted?”

“Eternal life?” Dean frowned, looking troubled, as if he had never considered it before. “I don’t think it’s for me. It would get lonely, wouldn’t it?”

Castiel was quiet for a few heartbeats. “I imagine so.”

“Unless you had someone to share it with,” Dean mused. “Someone you loved.” The small space between them had suddenly brightened a great deal and Dean looked at him with a tiny laugh. “Cas, you’re glowing.”

The brightness disappeared as Castiel felt his face flush. It was a human reaction, one that kept happening and he couldn’t quite get under control – not unlike the glowing. That, at least, was something all his own. “Sorry. I think the road is clear now.”

“You’re right.” Dean straightened up, brushing leaves and twigs from his jacket and offering a hand to help Cas up.

They walked on along the twisting dirt road, passing through sparse forest to deep woods. At one point, they broke out of the trees and found themselves at the top of a landscape of rolling hills. The grass was greener than anything Castiel had ever seen before, dotted with wildflowers of every color and crisscrossed with tiny brooks. Castiel stopped walking, a tiny gasp escaping his mouth. From above, this kind of thing had looked like nothing; as a star, he hadn’t cared about these simple, human sights. But from here, it looked solid, real. More real, perhaps, than anything Castiel had ever seen in the sky. A breeze touched his skin and he felt solid. He ran his thumb over his fingernails. He had a body and he was _alive_.

He looked over to see Dean watching him with a slight smile on his face, seeming to understand a little of what he was thinking. “Not so bad down here, is it?”

Castiel jerked one shoulder up noncommittally, trying not to let it show how full he felt. “Could be worse.”

A few more hours of walking brought them to a signpost on the side of the road that read “ _The Wall: 50 miles.”_

“Look at that!” Dean exclaimed. “Only fifty more miles. That’s nothing.”

Castiel’s appreciation for his new body had begun to diminish a half dozen miles back when the blisters on his heels popped. Now, he was more than ready to give up his physical form and never have to deal with aching muscles again. He groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. “Are your feet hurting as much as mine are? Never mind, that’s impossible – my feet hurt more than anyone’s feet have ever hurt before.”

“You keep complaining like that and I’m just going to have to carry you.”

Castiel snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I gained some muscle on Bobby’s ship. Look out!” To Castiel’s surprise, Dean rushed toward him, going in low, scooping him up by the waist and throwing him over his shoulder. Castiel tried to protest but found that he was laughing too hard, beating lightly against Dean’s back.

“Hey, do you see that?” Dean asked suddenly, stopping. Castiel twisted around on his shoulder to look in the direction that Dean was pointing. Up ahead, a yellow caravan was parked on the side of the road, half hidden among the trees but too brightly colored to miss.

Dean let Castiel down on the ground and they started toward the caravan. As they drew closer, Castiel caught sight of a man on the far side, stomping at the cinders of a fire pit.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Castiel said, stopping and catching ahold of Dean’s sleeve.

“What’s the matter?”

“Didn’t Bobby tell us not to trust anyone?”

“We don’t have to trust him, but we can ask for a ride. We have some coins to pay with.”

Castiel hesitated still.

“I thought you didn’t want to walk fifty more miles,” Dean said, bumping his shoulder playfully.

“Hah. You’re right, I suppose. But don’t tell him who we are.”

“Obviously.” They walked toward the caravan and when they were close enough, Dean called out, “Excuse me, sir.”

The man looked up, making Castiel and Dean stop in their tracks when they saw his eyes, which were as yellow as his caravan. He leered at them. “Sir? I’m Azazel.” His eyes passed over Castiel entirely and looked Dean up and down. Suddenly, his expression darkened. “That’s my amulet!”

“What?” Dean’s hand immediately went to the amulet that always hung around his neck.

Azazel strode toward them, fury written across his face. “You stole it from me, you dirty little—”

At the same time, Castiel and Dean drew the swords that Bobby had given to them. Azazel stopped in his tracks.

“My mistake,” he muttered, eyeing Dean’s blade and taking a step back.

“I can give you the amulet in return for safe passage to the wall.”

“And an Angel’s Wing candle, if you have one,” Castiel added. Dean threw him a look, and Castiel shrugged.

“I can take you as far as the village by the wall,” Azazel said. “You give me that amulet, and I swear to you that you’ll arrive there in the same condition you are in now.”

“Good,” Dean said. “And the Angel’s Wing?”

Azazel scoffed. “Angel’s Wing? You think I’d have something as powerful as that lying around?”

Dean cast a regretful look at Castiel. “Just the passage, then.” He pulled the amulet over his head and passed it to Azazel, who snatched it and ran his fingers over it.

“Do you have any idea what this is, boy?” he sneered.

“I don’t know, a lucky charm of some sort.”

“A lucky charm indeed,” Azazel chuckled. “Protection, even. The sort of thing that would stop me from doing this.”

Azazel’s hand shot out to grip Dean’s forehead and he muttered a few words that sounded like nonsense. Castiel let out a shout and lunged forward, sword swinging, but the blade was stopped by something, as if an invisible wall blocked him off. Azazel didn’t even seem to hear him, his focus on Dean, whose body had frozen. Castiel could only watch, horrified, as Dean shrank before his eyes, his human body devolving into something else entirely.

“What are you doing?” Castiel yelled, pushing against the invisible wall. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t touch Azazel. It was as if he wasn’t even there. Snickering to himself, Azazel crouched down and scooped up the creature that Dean had transformed into.

“That’s much better,” Azazel cooed, patting the tiny, furry head with one finger.

Castiel’s mouth dropped open. “You turned him into a _squirrel_?”

The squirrel cocked its head in Castiel’s direction at the sound of his voice, but there was no sign of recognition in its flat, dark eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Fun fact: yesterday was the four year anniversary of when I started watching Supernatural.

Castiel followed Azazel, who carried Dean in the palm of one hand, to the back of the caravan. When he opened the doors, Castiel spotted a woman with pale hair crouched inside. She recoiled away from Azazel, pressing herself against the back wall as Azazel opened up a small metal cage and dumped Dean inside.

“Don’t try to escape or you’ll be stuck as a squirrel forever,” he sneered, locking the cage door. Then he tossed it to the woman, who caught it gently enough not to jostle Dean. Castiel slipped into the caravan as Azazel climbed out – just as before, Azazel didn’t seem to be aware that he even existed. The door shut behind him, leaving only a grimy window in the side of the caravan to provide light, and Castiel heard a lock click from the outside. He quickly scrambled across the cramped space toward the woman, who held the cage in her lap.

“Are you alright?” Castiel demanded at the squirrel curled up inside the cage. Dean’s pointed ears twitched at the sound of his voice, but he didn’t make any indication that he understood the words. Instead, he began to run in tight circles around the perimeter of the cage. He paused only to scratch at the bars briefly before resuming his run.

Castiel groaned and leaned back. “He can’t even understand what I’m saying. This is a disaster.”

The woman cast a confused look between Castiel and the squirrel, obviously lost.

“I’m Castiel,” he said. “This squirrel is – was – my friend. Azazel transformed him, but he can’t see me for whatever reason. We’re just trying to get to the wall safely. Who are you?”

The woman shook her head and gestured to her throat, opening her mouth with no sound coming out.

“You can’t talk?” Castiel asked.

She nodded and lifted up a thin chain attached to her ankle that ran along the floor of the caravan and wrapped around a metal ring embedded into the wall.

“Did Azazel do this to you?”

She nodded once again.

“How long has it been?”

She shook her head sadly.

“What is he – a sorcerer? A demon?”

She made an emphatic gesture at the second one.

“Demon, then? That’s powerful magic.”

Just then, Dean’s squirrel throat seemed to finally start working because he chittered loudly, scratching against the bars again. His heart leaping, Castiel leaned close. “What are you trying to tell me?” Dean chittered again, but none of it made any sense.

The woman reached into her pocket and produced a tiny nut, handing it to Castiel. He held it against the bars of the cage. “If you can understand me, don’t eat this.”

The squirrel stared at the nut for a few seconds, and Castiel felt a smile spread across his face. Tentatively, he asked, “Dean?”

Then the squirrel bounded forward and seized the nut in its tiny paws, stuffing it into its cheeks. As soon as the nut was gone, it began chittering wildly again.

Castiel sighed. “It’s no use. He’s got a squirrel brain. He doesn’t understand anything.” He sat back, defeated. “We make an odd group, don’t we? A woman who can’t speak, a star who can’t be seen, and…a squirrel.”

The woman frowned and gestured to him as if asking a question. Understanding, Castiel nodded.

“Yes, I’m a star. It’s probably a good thing Azazel can’t see me or he’d be another person trying to cut my heart out.”

She motioned between Castiel and the cage holding Dean.

“No, that’s not what he’s going to do with me. At least,” Castiel let out a short laugh, “I don’t think so.” He watched Dean scurry around his cage for a few moments, the smile fading from his lips. “No, he isn’t. I trust him.” He felt his voice grow quiet. “I trust him more than anything.”

The woman tilted her head, waiting. Dean had stopped scurrying.

“He’s the only one that’s cared,” Castiel murmured. “He could have been like all the rest and try to kill me. But he doesn’t want that. I suppose I’m lucky that he’s the one who found me first.” He shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. “But it’s not just that I’m grateful. Even if he just wants me as a present for his fiancé…” A warm, tingling feeling that he had never experienced rose up inside him. He found himself smiling at the squirrel. “I don’t care. I’d do anything for him.” He looked up at the woman, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe that’s stupid of me. I haven’t been on this earth for very long, but I’ve already learned so much about humans. I used to look down at you from the sky and I could never understand why you go to war or get married or give up everything for someone you love.” Castiel’s eyebrows pinched together. “But I think I’m starting to understand it. He could ask anything of me, anything at all, and I’d do it if it would make him happy.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Is that what love feels like?”

The woman reached out and touched his hand, smiling back and nodding.

Castiel closed his eyes for a few moments. He felt lighter now – the realization took a weight off him that he hadn’t known he was carrying. He had no idea what to do with this new information, but the fact that it was there, that he knew about it, that he had spoken it out loud, let him breathe a little easier. Maybe that was enough.

Dean didn’t have to know. After all, he was still going to marry Lisa. Castiel had no way of returning to his home in the sky, but perhaps he could travel around this realm by himself. The little of it that he had seen was beautiful and fascinating; seeing it from the ground was so different from seeing it from the sky. Perhaps he could find Bobby and his crew again and sail with them. Dean would probably forget about him, but Castiel would be alright. As long as Dean was happy…

The thought of it pinched something inside his chest, but he shook his head. As long as Dean was happy, it didn’t matter what happened to Castiel. To have known him at all, to love him, made Castiel lucky beyond anything he could have imagined.

“Do you mind if I hold him?” he asked the woman. She held the cage out to him and Castiel placed it on his lap, sitting back against the wall of the caravan. Dean curled up in the corner of his cage and tucked his nose under his tail.

 

* * *

 

By the time the caravan lurched to a stop several hours later, the light that came in through the tiny window was dim. Castiel placed Dean’s cage on the floor as Azazel’s footsteps moved around the side of the caravan. “Time to go home, Dean,” he murmured.

The woman’s eyes widened suddenly and she sat up straight. She gestured wildly at Dean’s cage, then at herself and the chain around her ankle.

“What are you trying to say?” Castiel asked, confused.

Desperate tears filled the woman’s eyes and she opened her mouth as if straining to speak. Again, she motioned at Dean, then at her chain.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said helplessly. “I don’t know how to free you.”

She shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks now. Castiel reached out a hand to offer some sort of comfort, but then doors of the caravan flew open and Azazel leaned in to seize Dean’s cage. Castiel scrambled out of the caravan as the demon unlocked the cage and pulled Dean out by his fluffy tail.

“Time for you to become human again,” Azazel muttered, watching Dean writhe upside down. He tapped Dean’s head and let him drop as he began to grow again. The fur and tail disappeared, replaced with dark sandy hair and a familiar leather jacket. Within seconds, Dean was back, lying shivering on his side on the cobblestoned street.

“Dean!” Castiel exclaimed, dropping down at his side and helping him to his feet. He glanced back at the caravan in time to catch a glimpse of the woman, who stared at Dean like she was seeing a ghost while silent tears rolled down her cheeks, before Azazel shut the door.

“I’m gonna—” Dean’s face was very pale. He clutched his stomach and stumbled a few feet away to vomit onto the side of a road. Somebody shouted angrily, but Castiel barely heard it as he hurried forward to grab Dean’s elbow.

When Dean was able to stand, he looked around in confusion, giving Castiel the opportunity to do the same. They stood on the narrow street of a small village whose buildings were so close together they practically touched. Beyond it, Castiel could see trees. He was about to suggest that they find out how close they were to the wall when Dean suddenly went limp.

“Dean!” Castiel shouted, as Dean’s eyes rolled back and he slumped into Castiel’s arms. His head fell onto Castiel’s shoulder but his weight was too much to hold, sending them both falling to the cobblestones. Pinned beneath him, Castiel groaned. Dean was truly unconscious; his mouth hung open and his head lolled to the side when Castiel tried to lift him. Looking around desperately, Castiel’s eyes caught a sign a block down advertising an inn. He gathered his strength and began to hoist himself upright with Dean in his arms.

 

* * *

 

Dean woke up facing a window that opened to a dark, star filled sky outside. When he sat up slowly, sheets rustled around him. He was in the bed of a small room – an inn, judging by the names and short messages carved onto the wooden headboard. To his relief, his stomach was no longer rolling, though his head ached a little.

Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he stood up and waited for a few moments to be sure that he was steady. He took a tentative step forward and, when that didn’t send him crashing to the ground, ventured away from the bed.

The room was divided in two by a wall that cut across halfway, behind which Dean could see the flickering orange of a fire. When he wandered over, he spotted Castiel sitting cross-legged on the hearth, his chin resting in his hands. He seemed much too close to the fire to be comfortable but he didn’t seem to mind. Dean watched for a few moments, hypnotized by the way the light played over Cas’ still face.

Finally, he cleared his throat. Cas jumped and scrambled to his feet. “Dean! How are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” Dean’s voice felt rusty and unused, so he cleared his throat. “Don’t feel like hurling anymore. But my head kinda hurts.”

“Oh. That’s probably my fault.” Cas looked down sheepishly. “I may have dropped you on the way here.”

Dean snorted. “You carried me?”

“Of course I did! I wasn’t going to leave you lying in the street.”

“Well…thanks, Cas.”

“You’re welcome.” Cas’ eyes flickered away from Dean’s face. “I don’t know if you’re feeling up to it yet, but we can leave now if you want.”

“Why would we leave now?”

“So you can get back to Lisa.” Cas glanced up at Dean quickly, then away. “That’s what you want, right?”

“Oh. Right.” Dean frowned and rubbed the bruise on the back of his head. “There’s no rush. We can stay the night here.”

“Okay.” Cas’ eyes were still on his feet. Dean bit his lip and took a breath. He stepped forward, crossing the room to stand in front of Cas, who looked at him in confusion.

“We don’t…” Dean swallowed, trying not to get distracted by the blue of Cas’ eyes. “We don’t have to leave right away. We could stay for a while.”

“Stay? Stay where?”

“Here. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. We could keep travelling, if you want.” Dean realized his words were coming out in a rush and he sucked in a breath. Cas’ eyes had narrowed.

“But what about Lisa?”

“Lisa can wait.”

“But…” Cas shook his head. “Forgive me, I still don’t understand all of your human customs. Aren’t you supposed to ask a woman to marry you as soon as possible so another suitor doesn’t take your place?”

“Sure, I’d want to do that,” Dean said slowly, “if I were asking Lisa to marry me.”

Cas just blinked. Finally, he said, “I don’t understand.”

Dean looked down at his feet and breathed in. “Cas, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Did you mean what you said in the caravan?”

Cas’ face went pale, then rapidly very red. His hands flew up to cover his mouth. “But you were a squirrel! You ate the nut. You couldn’t understand me!”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course I ate the nut – I was starving!”

“Oh no,” Cas groaned. He ducked his head to hide in his hands. “Dean, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” Dean took his hands and pulled them away from his face, which burned bright red. “I just want to know if what you said is true.”

Cas shut his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them he met Dean’s gaze steadily. “Every word.”

Dean let out his breath in a huff. “Good. That’s good.” He squeezed Cas’ hands.

“Are you teasing me?” Cas looked hurt.

“No! Cas, no. I was going to ask you if I could kiss you.”

Cas’ face went very pale again. “What?” he breathed.

Dean swallowed. “You heard me.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when Cas lifted his hand to the back of Dean’s neck and kissed him first.

Dean’s mind momentarily went blank at the warm touch of Cas’ lips. His hands found their way to Cas’ face and he felt Cas’ fingers in his hair, pulling them closer together.

Then Cas pulled away suddenly, his eyes wide. “Wait, but I thought…”

“What’s wrong?”

“But Lisa!” Cas burst out. “Are you not going to marry her? Wasn’t that the whole _point_ of this?”

“I don’t love her,” Dean admitted. “I thought I could if I tried, but I don’t.”

“But you love…” Cas swallowed visibly. “…me?”

A flush rose to Dean’s cheeks as he nodded and rested his forehead against Cas’.

“You’re serious?” Cas whispered.

“I’m serious.” Dean bumped their noses together clumsily on his way to kiss Cas again. He had never felt anything like this – the warmth that spread over him, slow and sweet as honey; the desire that zipped through him like lightning. He didn’t know how long they stood there, pressed against each other, learning the taste of each other’s mouths. Only when he realized that Cas was shaking did Dean pull away.

“Cas? What’s the matter?”

Cas was glowing brighter than Dean had ever seen him; it almost hurt to look at. It was a moment before he noticed that there were tears in his eyes.

“Nothing’s the matter,” Cas whispered, a broad smile on his face. “I’m so happy.”

“You’re crying.” Dean reached up and brushed a tear away from his cheek.

“I’m sorry.” Cas ducked his head. “It’s this human body – I don’t think it knows how to handle this. Look at me, I’m overflowing.”

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m happy, Dean,” Cas whispered. “I didn’t know I could be this happy.”

Dean ran his fingers along the line of his jaw. “I didn’t either.”

Cas smiled at him shakily and Dean leaned in to kiss him again.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean woke up in the morning cocooned in Cas’ warmth. They had fallen asleep wrapped around each other after the kissing became overwhelming for Cas. Dean had discovered that Cas could be extremely cuddly when he let him; now, Cas’ body was fitted against Dean’s back like an outer shell, their hands clasped together over Dean’s chest and Cas’ forehead rested against his shoulder. His every breath ghosted over Dean’s neck.

When Dean rolled over, Cas grumbled in his sleep and tried to hold onto him tighter, but Dean gently pulled himself away. He pressed a kiss to his cheek and stood up, stretching the soreness of being turned into a squirrel out of his arms. Even now, Cas was glowing softly, lighting up the dim room where the sun’s reluctant, early-morning rays didn’t touch. Dean briefly considered waking Cas up, but he looked so peaceful lying there. He could wait, but he was so close to home and he might as well get this over with. He pulled on his boots and his cloak, then leaned over Cas’ sleeping body and cut a lock of his dark hair, which he wrapped up in his handkerchief. He wanted some proof that he had found the star, if only to show Lisa that his reason for not marrying her wasn’t simply that he had failed. Stowing the handkerchief in his pocket, he crept out of the room.

Downstairs, near the entrance of the inn, a man was slumped against the front counter, half awake. Dean tapped his knuckles against the wood to get his attention.

“Excuse me, sir. The boy that came in with me last night – dark hair, tan trench coat – can you give him a message from me when he comes down?”

The man peered at Dean blearily and grunted, which Dean took for an affirmation.

“Tell him that I’ve gone back to Lawrence. I’ll be back. Tell him that I want to tell Lisa the truth.”

Outside, the morning air was chill and the sun peeked over the trees as if it hadn’t decided whether to rise all the way. The village’s main street was almost entirely empty. Dean started down the cobblestoned way, feeling lighter than he had in days.

The walk through the forest was pleasant, with pale light filtering through the trees and the sound of birds greeting the dawn the only thing breaking the silence. It was longer than he had expected, and by the time he broke out of the trees and spotted the stone wall on the other side of a small meadow, the sun was fully risen and his cloak was beginning to feel uncomfortably warm. He unclasped it as he traipsed through the long grass. A warm breeze played across his bare neck. At the gap in the wall, he paused for a moment and placed a hand on the sun-warmed stones. Then he stepped through and returned to his world.

On the other side, he paused for a moment, expecting everything to feel different. But it didn’t. The air had the same weight and warmth; the ground had the same firmness beneath his feet. He had only been gone for a little more than a week, but he felt like a completely different person than the one that left Lawrence. Shaking his head and laughing at himself a little, Dean stepped forward and continued on his way to his village.

Across the meadow on this side of the wall, then through the small copse of trees, and Dean stood at the head of Lawrence’s only road.

Before this, the longest he had spent away from home was two days, when his dad took Sam and him on a fishing trip when Dean was only seven years old. He hardly remembered the trip itself, but he remembered coming back to Lawrence and thinking it looked different somehow. Being away from the village, if only for two days, made him see it in a new way. It was the same now. Dean had always thought he would spend the rest of his life here – marry Lisa or some other local girl and work at Ellen’s tavern to earn a living. Now, he had seen the world beyond Lawrence and it was bigger than he could have ever imagined. The idea of settling down in this tiny village didn’t feel right anymore.

Lawrence was no longer the only world he knew, and he didn’t know what to do with that.

He stepped onto the cobblestoned street and walked toward the house he rented with Sam. Just outside, he paused. Before he could reach for the door handle, the door burst open and Sam leapt out, straight into his arms.

“You’re back!”

“Woah there!” Dean laughed, wrapping his arms around his brother and swinging him around. “Did you miss me?”

“It felt like you were gone for months,” Sam groaned. “Why didn’t you use the Angel’s Wing to get back? Did you find the star?”

“I did, but I—”

“Dean?”

Sam let go of Dean at the sound of the new voice, his eyes wide. Dean turned to see Lisa staring at him. A split second of silence passed, and then she dropped her basket of apples and ran forward to throw her arms around him.

“I didn’t think you were coming back!” she exclaimed in his ear.

Dean quickly let go of her, holding onto her shoulders. At the same time, they both said, “I have something to tell you!”

Lisa flushed and looked down. Dean said, “You first.”

“Dean, I don’t know how to tell you this.” She bit her lip and met his eyes apologetically. “I’m engaged.”

“Oh.” Dean hadn’t been expecting that. He blinked. “To who?”

“He’s a merchant. My father set it up. He’s old and rich and I don’t like him much, but Father said it’ll grow with time.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I know what I promised and I don’t know what to do. After a few days, I thought you just weren’t coming back, or that you wouldn’t find the star…” She frowned and looked at Dean’s empty hands. “You didn’t find the star, did you?”

“Actually, I did.” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the handkerchief with Cas’ hair wrapped inside. “That’s what I wanted to tell you.”

“Is that the star?” She squinted at the handkerchief, confused.

“No, but it’s proof that I found it. I wanted you to know, even though I can’t marry you.”

Lisa took the handkerchief from him and unfolded it. “But it’s just dust.”

“What?” When Dean grabbed it, a handful of shining grey powder floated to the ground, with not a single dark hair to be seen.

“Is that…supposed to be the star?” Lisa asked uncertainly.

“No, it was his hair, it was supposed to be…” Dean trailed off, shaking his head. If a lock of Cas’ hair turned to dust when it crossed the wall, what would happen if Cas himself tried to cross? Dean’s stomach jolted horribly as he imagined a pile of stardust on this side of the wall the second that Cas stepped over.

He had left a message that he was going back to Lawrence. For all he knew, Cas could be following him. He could be nearing the wall at any second.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Lisa, I’m sorry, but I never could have married you.” Dean kissed her cheek quickly. “I’m in love with a star.” He dropped the handkerchief and took off running back the way he came, ignoring Lisa’s confusion and Sam’s shouts after him.

 

* * *

 

When Castiel woke up, Dean was gone. He reached out, expecting to find the warmth of Dean’s body to wrap himself around again, but instead he found empty sheets. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Dean’s side of the bed was still slightly warm, which meant he hadn’t left long ago. Perhaps he had just stepped out to find them breakfast.

Castiel brought his knees up to his chest, a smile creeping onto his face. A week ago, he could never have imagined waking up beside a human, let alone being remotely happy about it. He didn’t think he had even known what happiness meant a week ago. Right now, he felt distinctly solid and _human._ He curled and uncurled all of his toes and fingers and thought about how real he had felt when Dean touched him. He pressed a thumb to his lower lip and tried to remember the exact pressure of Dean’s lips. His glow had been steady and soft since he woke up, but now it flared brighter.

After a few minutes, when Dean didn’t return, Castiel decided to find him instead. He pulled on his shoes and the trench coat he had gotten from Bobby’s ship and wandered out of the room. Downstairs, he didn’t see Dean anywhere, so he was about to search in the streets outside when the man at the front counter stirred.

“Hey, you. Trench coat and dark hair, eh? I’ve got a message for you from your friend.”

Castiel stepped toward him. “What is it?”

“Uh…” The man scratched his head. “Something about going back to Lisa? Think he said he won’t be back.”

Everything in Castiel froze. “He said that?” he whispered.

“Yep. Wanted me to tell you.”

“But he… he…” Castiel shook his head. His legs felt weak and he gripped the edge of the counter. “I thought we were…”

“Looked like he was in a rush,” the man said indifferently. “If that means anything to ya.”

“I…I don’t…” Castiel sucked in a slow, shuddering breath. The glow that had hung around him only moments before was gone. “Thank you for telling me.”

Somehow, he managed to step outside, where he squinted into the early morning sunlight. The street grew watery and indistinct as tears pricked his eyes. He blinked rapidly, brushing them away as he was caught up in the morning bustle of the village. He barely noticed where he was walking, allowing himself to be swept along with the crowd. At some point, a blur of yellow registered in his periphery and he briefly spotted the caravan that had carried him and Dean this far. The yellow-haired slave woman caught his eye and it looked like she was about to silently call out to him, but he turned away.

Then, without even realizing, he was standing at the edge of the forest that separated this village from the wall. He stopped, staring into the trees.

He had to know for sure. Even if it meant being cast aside, he had to hear the words from Dean’s mouth. He couldn’t believe that Dean would reject him this cruelly. Sniffing loudly and wiping his cheeks dry, Castiel stepped into the forest, heading in the direction that he hoped would take him to Lawrence.

The walk was longer than he expected, and the further he went, the more his doubts grew. Dean hadn’t actually told him he loved him, had he? Castiel had opened up completely about his feelings, but Dean never explicitly said the words out loud. He thought he remembered Dean saying that he didn’t love Lisa, but how could he know if he could trust that memory? Castiel had been unusually emotional since taking this human form, and maybe he had simply heard what he wanted to hear.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize there was someone walking beside him until he happened to glance to the side and spotted her. He shouted and jumped away, reaching for the sword at his side only to realize that he had left it back at the inn. The woman smiled benignly at him. She was hunched and ancient, her face so covered in lines it was hard to discern her features, and her hair an ashy grey.

“No need for worry,” she rasped. “I mean you no harm.”

“Who are you?” Castiel asked warily.

“I’m nobody. Just taking my morning walk through the forest and thought I could use some company. Who are you?”

“N-nobody,” Castiel echoed her. She began walking and he fell into step with her. “I’m looking for someone.”

“There’s nobody in this direction. Just a wall.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m looking for! He’s beyond the wall and I—”

“Beyond the wall?” The woman frowned. “You shouldn’t go beyond the wall.”

“No, it’s fine, I know he’s there—”

“You shouldn’t go beyond the wall!” The woman seized his elbow, stopping him, her voice sharp.

“I have to find him!” Castiel exclaimed, pulling his arm out of her weak grasp. “I have to know for sure!”

The woman hesitated, but finally nodded and let him continue walking. “Very well. I’ll walk with you. Your heart is broken, I can tell, and a broken heart is no good at all.”

Castiel wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he nodded and kept going.

It wasn’t long before the trees gave way to a meadow with a low stone wall cutting across it a short distance away. He crossed the meadow until he stood at the wall, placing his hand on the warm stones. The other side looked exactly the same as this; it was hard to imagine that it was an entirely different realm. He saw no sign of a village or Dean. Was he in the wrong place?

“Perhaps I should go and find him,” he murmured.

“Best not, lad,” the woman said quickly, placing a hand on his elbow as if to ensure that he didn’t try to step through the gap in the wall.

“Then I should wait for him.”

“What’s the use of false hope? If he wanted to be found, he would be here. Forget him, and come with me. I know just the thing to make you feel better.”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t help but feel that she was right, no matter how much he wanted to see Dean striding across the field toward him with that wide smile across his face. His throat tightened and he looked away before he could cry.

Behind them, the sound of something crashing through the trees made them both spin around. Azazel’s yellow caravan burst out of the forest at top speed, its team of horses lathered with sweat and the slave-woman holding the reins. It hurtled toward them, only for the woman to pull up sharply before it collided with the wall. Castiel could hear shouting and something pounding inside the caravan, which he guessed was Azazel himself.

The woman had a fierce look on her face. As soon as the caravan came to a stop, she jumped down from the bench and strode toward them, gesturing wildly at Castiel. He shook his head, not understanding. Beside him, the old woman muttered something that sounded foul.

“What are you trying to say?” Castiel asked helplessly. The woman pushed her yellow hair out of her face in frustration and pointed emphatically at the field on the other side of the wall, then at Castiel.

“Do you want me to go over there?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head quickly.

“Are you asking about Dean?” Her face lit up and she nodded. “No, he’s gone. I was wrong about him.” Castiel swallowed hard. “I thought he… But no, he’s gone back to his home.”

She shook her head forcefully, still trying to communicate something. Before she could try to gesture out an explanation, the door of the caravan banged open and Azazel stalked out, rage written across his face.

“You!” he spat. He seized the woman by the hair and her mouth opened in what would have been a cry of pain if she had a voice. Castiel shouted out in alarm only to remember that he couldn’t touch Azazel. The demon shook the woman furiously. “I’ve had enough of you defying me. I tried to give you what you asked for but you always wanted more! I gave you a family for five years but were you happy?”

 _Please_ , the woman mouthed, tears in her eyes.

“No more excuses! I’ve had enough of you.”

He raised his hand to cast a curse, but the old woman, who Castiel had nearly forgotten about, cut in. “I think we’ve heard quite enough from you.” She hissed something that Castiel didn’t understand and pointed a crooked finger at the demon.

Azazel froze, letting go of the woman’s hair. For a few heartbeats he stared at the woman with widening yellow eyes. Then he burst into a column of flame that dissolved into ash.

Castiel spun around to the old woman, his mouth falling open. “You’re—” Then he saw it, in the shape of her face and the gleam of her eye. She had aged dramatically since he last saw her, but it was unmistakably the witch who had posed as an innkeeper. The witch who had tried to cut out his heart.

Behind him, the yellow haired woman had fallen to her knees in the grass. She gasped and touched a hand to her throat, then whispered, “Thank you.”

“Don’t get emotional on me,” the witch snapped. Before Castiel could make a move, she waved her hand and conjured a thin rope that wrapped itself around Castiel’s torso and pinned his arms to his side. Another rope did the same to the woman. With another wave of her hand, the two of them were pulled by some invisible force into the back of the caravan.

“Wait!” Castiel shouted. He heard the witch laugh as she climbed onto the caravan’s bench. The last thing he saw before she slammed the caravan’s doors shut with magic was a glimpse of the meadow, as empty as it had been when Castiel got there. Dean was truly gone and Castiel had no one.


	12. Chapter 12

Crowley felt as if he was traveling in circles. Ever since escaping Singer’s ship, he had been chasing down rumors in and around the village near the wall, but none of them brought him to what he was looking for. A hungover innkeeper told him that there had been two boys staying in one of his rooms the night before, but the trail went cold after that. They had left the inn with no clues for him to follow.

He had resorted to riding along the length of the stone wall that marked the border of his kingdom, hoping that something would turn up and give him some idea of where to search next. After an hour or so, with the sun already high and hot in the sky despite the early hour, he was ready to give up and return to his castle and hope that his claim on the crown would be accepted merely through the fact that Abaddon was dead.

He reined his horse in, about to ride away from the wall, when he saw somebody on the other side, sprinting toward him. The boy didn’t look like he belonged to a different realm; his clothes were styled in the fashions of Faerie and the sword at his belt was obviously forged in his realm. He reached the wall and jumped through a gap in the stones, his hair windswept and his face shining with sweat.

He barely glanced at Crowley. “Did you see him?” he gasped, turning around in circles, obviously looking for something.

“See who?” Crowley snapped impatiently. He wasn’t accustomed to being ignored like this.

“A boy, looks about my age. About this high, dark hair, blue eyes.” The boy clutched at his hair, looking close to panic.

“Who are you?” Crowley demanded.

“I’m Dean.” For the first time, the boy looked properly at Crowley. “Who are you?”

“Crowley, rightful ruler of Faerie.” He straightened up, feeling annoyingly unregal with his dusty cloak and exhausted horse.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “You’re Crowley? Abaddon told me about you.”

“You knew my cousin?” Crowley narrowed his eyes and Dean shut his mouth, seeming to realize that he had said too much. Crowley’s mind crept back to what the innkeeper had said, about two boys, strangers to the village, who had stayed the night and left before Crowley got there. He was beginning to suspect who this was. “You don’t know anything about a fallen star, do you?”

Dean’s expression flickered only momentarily, but it was enough. “Of course not,” he said. Crowley knew he was lying. He couldn’t be the star – he was too ordinary looking – but it must be the boy he was looking for.

Dean’s eyes fell to the ground and he let out a choked noise, darting forward. The grass was marked with what appeared to be a large burn, with a pile of ash in the center. Dean crouched down and almost touched the ash, before he quickly shook his head and pulled his hand away. “It can’t be him,” he whispered to himself, barely loud enough for Crowley to hear. “Wrong side of the wall.” Looking around, his eyes fell on a set of wheel tracks heading along the wall.

Crowley drew his sword and rested it against Dean’s neck, making Dean freeze. “You’re looking for the star,” Crowley growled. “Tell me what you know.”

Dean swallowed hard. “Yes, I’m looking for him. He’s my friend. I made a mistake and I left him and now he might be hurt.”

“Where is it?”

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed. He pointed to the tracks. “But something came this way – a wagon, or… a caravan.” His eyes widened. “I think I know who has him.”

“Who?” Crowley demanded.

“I need to follow those tracks.”

“Not on your life.” Crowley sheathed his sword and made to spur his horse forward.

“Wait!” Dean shouted. “You need me with you. You don’t have any idea what you’re walking into and it would be stupid for you to go alone.”

“Then I’ll just have to make you tell me,” Crowley muttered, reaching for his sword again.

Dean didn’t flinch. “You don’t have time to torture information out of me. If we don’t go now, we might not catch up in time.”

Crowley gritted his teeth. He knew the boy was right, though he was loathe to admit it. Finally, he muttered, “Fine, I’ll take you with me. But I’ll kill you as soon as I get the information I need.”

Dean’s face brightened despite Crowley’s threat, and he moved around to the horse’s side and hoisted himself onto the back of the saddle. “Alright then. Follow those tracks.”

 

* * *

  

Rowena forced the horses ahead at full speed, feeling her magic draining with every beat of their hooves. It hardly mattered; soon she would have enough magic to last her another few centuries, if she was lucky. By the time the sun had begun to set over the mountains, they were nearing her fortress. The horses were lathered with sweat when they came to a stop, but she ignored them and jumped down from the caravan seat, striding toward the back as quickly as her aged body would let her.

She threw the doors open to find the star and Azazel’s slave still curled in the back, their arms roped to their sides. They looked up with wide, terrified eyes. She waved her hand and the star jerked toward her and was forced upright on the ground, barely finding its balance. Rowena looked at the slave woman and sighed distastefully. “You’re still here.” She would decide what to do with her later; for now, she slammed the door shut with the woman still inside and dragged the star toward the fortress.

It struggled feebly, but Rowena still had some strength left in her arms and her ropes were resilient. Perhaps the star had finally realized that it had no chance of survival and knew that resistance would get it nowhere. Its heart wasn’t glowing, but it was better than nothing. Hopefully a new star would fall before she ran out of this magic.

At the heavy front doors of her fortress, Rowena held out a hand and they flew open for her. She pulled the star along behind her as she climbed over the bodies littering the once great halls. Its fear and revulsion radiated from it, making its heart darker; hopefully, Rowena would be able to lighten it somewhat before she carved it out.

A staircase led up from the long entrance hall to a dais with a marble table at the top. The ceiling above was cut away, allowing light from outside to stream down on the pale stone and make it appear to glow. Rowena knew that the light of the stars in the sky would make this star’s heart stronger, so it would be best to wait until they appeared. She pulled the star up the steps and forced it to lie down on the table, lifting heavy leather straps to hold him down.

“Please,” the star whispered, its eyes closed and tears leaking from the corners. Rowena hadn’t realized stars could cry. “Don’t do this.”

“You’ve got a little time left, dearie,” Rowena said, patting its cheek. “The last thing you see will be your brothers and sisters up above, won’t that be nice?”

The star’s eyes squeezed tighter and its lip wobbled a little, but it refused to make a sound.

 

* * *

 

Dean and Crowley had stopped twice to trade horses with farmhands they passed along the way, trying to catch up to the caravan. Even still, the horse they rode was near exhaustion by the time the sun began to set and Dean spotted a fortress in a valley up ahead.

“There,” he told Crowley, pointing to the yellow caravan in front of the entrance. Crowley spurred the poor horse forward and they started down the side of the valley.

They dismounted near the caravan and, seeing that nobody sat at the front bench, started toward the open front gates of the fortress. Dean stopped when he heard something: a loud thumping noise from inside the caravan as if somebody was kicking the wooden wall. Drawing his sword, Dean moved toward the door at the back, catching Crowley’s attention with a wave. He put a hand on the latch and met the other man’s eyes before swinging it open.

Azazel’s slave, bound in rope, blinked at the sudden light. When she spotted them, her eyes widened.

“Where’s Azazel?” Dean demanded without thinking, only to remember that she couldn’t speak.

“He’s dead,” the woman gasped, taking Dean by surprise. “It’s the witch – she’s got the star!”

“I thought you couldn’t speak.” Dean moved forward and sliced through her ropes, allowing her to shake herself free. “Are you working for the witch? Who are you?”

“Wait a moment.” Crowley elbowed Dean to the side. “Mary?”

The woman tore her eyes away from Dean and blinked rapidly. “Crowley, is that you?”

“You’ve been missing for twenty years,” Crowley said bluntly. “We all thought you were dead.”

“I’m not.” Her eyes flew back to Dean instantly. “Dean—”

“I have to go,” he began, hoping that Crowley would be distracted by this reunion long enough for Dean to rescue Cas. But the woman, Mary, shook her hands free from the rope and grabbed his wrist.

“Dean – wait! I’m your mother!”

Dean froze. His eyes flew to hers, which were rapidly filling with tears. Almost instantly, he saw it; the shape of her eyes that were echoed in his, the way her mouth curved that was the same as Sam’s. She gripped his wrist tighter as he took a tentative step toward her.

“My . . . mother?” he whispered. Mary – of course, that was his mother’s name. Her light hair was the same as the distant, shadowy figure in his memory.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Dean, I’ve wanted to find you for so long. But you found me instead.”

She drew Dean into a hug, her tears soaking into the shoulder of his shirt. He stood frozen for a few seconds before he was able to lift his arms to hug her back. She seemed tiny; when he was little, he had thought she was the strongest person in the world. Now, her arms shook and she choked back a sob, clutching him like she would never let him go.

“Wait.” Dean pulled back. “I saw you before. When Azazel turned me into a squirrel.”

“I didn’t know who you were until the star said your name,” Mary said, wiping her eyes. “And I was under a spell that wouldn’t let me speak so I couldn’t explain who I was. I thought I had lost you all over again.”

“How do you know Crowley, then?”

“He’s my cousin. My father is the king of Faerie.”

“Was,” Crowley said from behind Dean. “He died a week ago.”

Mary leaned back, shocked into silence, and Dean gripped her hand tightly. When she looked up, Dean saw a new question in her eyes, which he dreaded before she could say it out loud.”

“John,” she murmured. “Is he…?”

Dean shook his head. “He died about four years back.”

Mary closed her eyes and nodded, lifting Dean’s hand to press the back of it against her forehead. After a few moments, she looked at him again with tears shining in her eyes and Dean saw that she was almost afraid to ask the next question. “And Sam?”

“He’s alive,” Dean said quickly. “I saw him this morning. He’s doing great.”

Her shoulders slumped in relief. “I want to see him again. If you’ll let me. I want to be a part of your lives.”

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed. “Of course I want that. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted that, M-Mom.” He stumbled over the word and looked at her uncertainly.

“Mom.” She smiled through her tears and nodded. “I like that.”

Dean found himself blinking back moisture from his own eyes. “Now I need to find Cas, and then—” He turned around, but Crowley wasn’t standing behind him anymore. Looking around the side of the caravan, he spotted Crowley slipping through the open door of the fortress. He cursed and turned back to Mary.

“Go save him,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean gripped his sword and ran toward the fortress, stepping through the open door after Crowley. His nose was immediately assaulted with the musky smell of stale air and dust, underneath it a sickly rotten smell as if somebody had let meat stay out a spoil. He wrinkled his noise and stepped forward, careful to make his footfalls soft against the stone. Ahead of him, Crowley was creeping down the long hallway, at the end of which was a short staircase with a table at the top. With a jolt, Dean saw Cas strapped to the table, with an old woman that could only be the witch kneeling in front of it and gazing upward as the first stars of the night shone through a gap in the ceiling.

He wanted to run to Cas’ side, but he knew he couldn’t be reckless. Ducking behind a pillar, he watched Crowley make his way forward and moved along the hallway himself, pillar by pillar. By the time Crowley reached the bottom of the stairs, Dean was only a few paces behind him.

When Crowley put a foot on the first step, the witch finally moved, straightening up as much as her hunched back would allow. Dean saw the glint of a silver knife in her hand as she turned around.

Crowley stopped moving and squinted up at her. For a few heartbeats, the hall was silent. Then Crowley said, “Mother?”

Genuine shock registered on the witch’s face. “Fergus?”

“It’s Crowley,” he growled. “You were supposed to be dead.”

“ _You_ were supposed to be dead!” the witch snapped, looking less than pleased. “You weren’t supposed to survive past seven!”

“Because you abandoned me on the riverside!”

“I had better things to do than raise a boy,” the witch said dismissively. “Besides, you were never supposed to happen. Even witches make mistakes. Honestly, I’d nearly forgotten about you. But you turned out fine, didn’t you?”

“No thanks to you. You _forgot_ about me?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally. I’m hundreds of years old, I’m bound to forget some things.”

Dean looked past the witch to Cas on the marble table. His eyes were closed but Dean could see his chest rising and falling from here, his eyebrows pinched together. If Dean tried to move now, the witch and Crowley would see him immediately. He could only hope that they would be distracted for long enough for him to think of a way to get to Cas and make their getaway.

“Don’t tell me you’re after the star as well,” the witch sighed. “What do you want it for?”

“It’s heart will make me the rightful ruler of Faerie,” Crowley growled. “After you abandoned me, I was taken in by the king’s family. So I’ve gotten on well enough without you.”

“Ooh, well done,” the witch said sarcastically. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not going to happen. The star’s heart is mine.”

“I won’t hesitate to kill you, Mother,” Crowley said.

“Nor I, Fergus,” she said coolly.

As they stared each other down, Dean crept forward, keeping his eyes on both of them. Cas was so close. Dean glanced at him long enough to see him staring at the night sky with wide eyes. All Dean had to do was get up the stairs and cut him free…

His foot nudged a loose stone and the witch’s eyes flew to him. She made a wide, slashing gesture with her hand and a hunk of stone fell from the ceiling. He dove to the side, barely avoiding being crushed. Another one fell, then another, and Dean scrambled out of the way of each with his heart in his throat. He briefly looked up to see Cas’ head angled to the side to watch him, his blue eyes wide. _I’m coming for you_ , Dean told him silently. _I’m going to save you_.

While the witch sent more stones flying at Dean, Crowley pushed past her up the steps to the table where Cas lay. The witch spun away from Dean as Crowley lifted his sword high into the air above Cas’ chest. At the same time, Dean and the witch shouted, “No!” Before Dean could move, she drew her arm back and flung her knife. For a split second, Dean saw it spinning through the air before it buried itself into Crowley’s back with a sickening _thump_.

Dean clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the horrified noise that came out. Crowley’s sword clattered to the ground and his body slumped over Cas, who cried out. The witch turned back to Dean, her teeth bared into a snarl.

“Stay back,” she warned. She held out a hand and her knife flew out of Crowley’s back and into her palm, still dripping blood. Dean gagged and stepped away.

“Dean!” Cas called out, his voice muffled by Crowley’s body.

Without taking his eyes off the witch, Dean called back, “Cas, are you hurt?”

“No.” Cas wriggled in his straps, trying to loosen them with no avail. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Dean promised, narrowing his eyes and stepping toward the witch.

She threw her knife, but he saw it coming and batted it aside easily with his sword. Weaponless now, she stepped backward up a few stairs, waving her hands and muttering incantations to send more stones from the ceiling tumbling down at him. He managed to dodge all of them, getting closer to her and to Cas with every step. When he was within reach, he swung his sword. She dodged out of the way almost too quickly for him to follow, leaving him to take a chunk of stone out of the banister. Dean swung again but she jumped backward, reaching the top of the stairs. From somewhere in her skirt, she pulled another knife. Spinning around, she shoved Crowley’s body off Cas, lifting the knife over her head.

“Your heart is glowing, little star,” she growled at Cas. “I should have known to wait for your true love to show up.”

With a shout, Dean lunged at her, but she somehow spun out of the way in time. His blade sliced through the straps holding Cas down.

“Look out!” Cas shouted, pushing the straps away and sitting up. Dean ducked a hunk of stone sent flying his way from the smashed bannister. The witch backed away and Dean bore down on her, swinging wildly with his sword but not landing a single hit. Finally, he had her backed against the stairway railing, his blade only stopped from cutting her throat by her knife. His arms shook with the effort.

“Don’t come near me or my family ever again,” Dean snarled. Before he could make a finishing blow, the witch twisted. She rolled over the top of the railing and fell a good twenty feet to the ground below. Dean leaned over but she landed on her feet and immediately started back toward the stairs.

Dean spun around to find Cas standing just behind him. He held the sword out. “Take it. You’re better at this than I am.”

“Dean, wait.” Breathlessly, Cas wrapped his hands around Dean’s wrists, making him lower the sword. “Do you love me?”

Dean stilled and blinked at him. “Cas . . . yes. Of course I do.”

Cas stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean, holding him close as he began to glow. The sword clattered to the ground as Dean’s hands went slack. “Close your eyes,” Cas whispered in his ear.

On the other side of Dean’s tightly shut eyelids, a bright white light grew stronger and stronger until it almost hurt even though he couldn’t see it. He buried his face in Cas’ neck as the star grew warmer and warmer, lit up by the light inside him. Cas was so warm and so bright that Dean felt that if he tried to let go, he would fall apart. From somewhere far away, he heard a drawn out scream that seemed to go on for forever.

Then, finally, there was silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the last one! It should be posted within the next few days, if everything goes as planned!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this!

Dean opened his eyes slowly as Cas let go of him. A soft glow still lit up the hall, emanating from Cas, but it didn’t hurt to look at; he could see Cas’ beaming face clearly inches away from his own. Dean spun around, but the witch was gone. In her place was a small pile of ash that scattered in the draft from the hole in the ceiling even as Dean watched.

“What happened?” he asked breathlessly.

“It was me!” Cas gripped Dean’s arms tightly, smiling wider than Dean had ever seen before. “I did what stars do best – shine. I can’t do something like that unless I’m at my strongest power, when my heart has been claimed.”

“Claimed?” Dean repeated, bewildered.

“When it belongs to somebody else unconditionally.” Cas lifted Dean’s hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. Dean’s throat went dry as he felt the steady _thump-thump-thump_ and he looked up to meet Cas’ eyes. “Before, everybody wanted it because they wanted the power of an unclaimed heart. But now that it’s been claimed, it only belongs to one person.”

Dean swallowed thickly. “Do you mean…?”

“I mean you, of course,” Cas laughed.

“Oh.” Dean blinked quickly. “Cas…”

Cas’ smile slipped a little. “If you don’t want it—”

“No, I do!” Dean tightened his grip on the hand that held his over Cas’ heart, then moved it over to his own chest. “My heart belongs to you too.”

Cas took Dean’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Dean wished time would stop so he could stay in that moment forever, Cas’ hand over his heart, kissing him under the light of the stars. He could feel Cas glowing again – a soft, content glow that meant he was happy. If Dean could glow too, he would be.

Then a sound at the end of the long hall made them break apart and spin around. Instead of a new enemy at the door, though, he saw Mary pushing it open cautiously. When she saw nobody left standing up Dean and Cas, her smile widened and she stepped inside.

“Mom!” Dean grabbed Cas’ hand and pulled him down the stairs, running across the hall toward her. As soon as they reached her, he threw his arms around her, still unable to believe that he could do this with his real mother. She squeezed him tightly, seeming unwilling to let go.

“Is it over?” she asked in his ear.

“It’s over,” Dean promised. He pulled back and held her shoulders. “The witch is dead. So is Crowley… I know he was your cousin, but he wasn’t good. He was trying to kill Cas.”

“I never liked him anyway,” Mary sighed. She turned to Cas, holding a hand out to him. “We meet officially at last.”

Cas slowly shook her hand, looking at Dean with wide eyes. “This is . . . your mother?”

Dean and Mary laughed at his expression, and Dean was delighted to realize that they had the same laugh. “I’ll explain it all to you,” he promised. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“You’re the star that’s stolen my son’s heart,” Mary said.

Cas’ face sobered and he nodded. “I’m Castiel. It’s an honor to meet you.”

In response, Mary pulled him into a hug. Castiel froze for a few moments, taken by surprise, before he lifted his arms to tentatively hug her back.

When Mary turned back to Dean, she asked, “Do we go back to Lawrence now? I want to see Sam.”

Dean’s face fell. “Cas can’t go over the wall. He’ll turn into stardust. He belongs in this world only.”

Cas was quiet for a few moments before he reached out and took Dean’s hand. “I don’t mind,” he murmured, rubbing Dean’s forearm. “I can live in the village nearby. We won’t be far apart.”

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Dean said fiercely. “I’ll stay with you. I don’t care if this isn’t my world – I would rather be with you than anything else.”

“There’s no reason Sam can’t come over here,” Mary said slowly, looking thoughtful. “In fact…”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“My father was the king of Faerie. After me, you’re the oldest living heir. Tradition says that if the last ruler doesn’t name an heir, the next one must possess the heart of a star to have a legitimate claim of the throne. You’re the king’s grandson and you have the heart of a star.” She met his eyes. “Dean, you’re the next rightful ruler of Faerie.”

Dean blinked at her for a few moments, dazed. When he swayed in place a little, both Cas and Mary grabbed his arms to steady him. “Me?” Dean said weakly.

“You,” Mary confirmed. “If you wish to take it, the throne is yours. You won’t have any need to leave this realm and you and Cas can stay together for as long as you like.”

“But…” Dean looked at Cas, who looked as shocked as he felt. “I promised that I’d return you to the sky.”

Cas let out a little laugh, brushing his fingers against Dean’s cheek. “If I had to choose between a single lifetime on earth with you and an eternity in the sky alone, I would choose you every time.” He leaned his forehead against Dean’s. “I’ll stay by your side, always.”

“And I’ll stay by yours,” Dean murmured. He looked between the two of them and nodded slowly. “I’ll do it, then. If I have my family with me, I couldn’t need anything more.”

Mary beamed. “We’ll be here for you, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

Dean and Castiel were crowned the rulers of Faerie a year later. During the intervening time, Dean brought Mary back to Lawrence to be reunited with her younger son, amid tears of joy and sorrow for the ones they had lost. Sam was thrilled to hear about Dean’s adventures and meet Cas; Dean doubted that Cas would ever be rid of Sam asking question after question about how stars worked in the realm of Faerie compared to the fiery balls of gas in their world. Fortunately, Cas didn’t seem to mind, even venturing into a seemingly bottomless pit of research with Sam, which would someday be highly value by scholars of the land.

The family traveled to the Faerie castle and presented Dean as the rightful heir to the throne. While the priests and noblemen debated about whether his claim was legitimate, Mary gave her father a proper burial. They cleared out the castle, which had for too long been inhabited by somber ruler who preferred black velvet draperies and cold, silent hallways. Instead, they filled the rooms with light and warmth and, as per Sam’s constant requests, books. It was clear to the inhabitants of Faerie that these new rulers were going to be unlike any they had had in recent memory.

Dean and Cas spent months travelling the land they would soon be ruling while Mary and Sam took care of business back in their new home. They went from village to village, meeting their future subjects and learning everything they could. Somewhere along the way, they met up with Bobby Singer and his crew and promised the captain a knighthood as soon as they were crowned. They followed rumors of witches terrorizing towns and gathered small armies of villagers to flush them out and make the land safe.

They married one night under the light of the stars, exchanging vows and matching silver bands. Only a priest and a handful of woodland faeries and elves witnessed it, though Dean promised they would have a bigger ceremony once they returned home. He suspected that Mary would never forgive them if they didn’t. That night, they held each other tightly in the tiny room of an inn and whispered their love into each other’s skin.

Half the kingdom was invited to the coronation, or so it seemed at least when Dean stood at the window watching carriages pour through the castle gates from all over the land. He still felt that he didn’t know what he was doing, but when Cas joined him at the window and took his hand, he knew that they would be fine.

They knelt before their kingdom hand in hand as the High Priest crowned them kings of Faerie. The cheering when they rose together was loud enough to shake the stars themselves.

Later, as they were trying to sort through all the gifts they had received, Mary approached with a small box in her hands.

“It’s just a little thing,” she said. She looked radiant in a gown as gold as her hair. “But it took me a long time to track down.”

Dean and Cas opened the box together and Dean’s mouth fell open when he saw the black candle lying in a bed of silk.

“An Angel’s Wing?” he whispered.

“I had a feeling it would mean a lot to you,” she said, looking at Cas with a twinkle in her eye. Dean pulled her into a hug and she reached out to bring Cas in as well.

Under Dean and Cas’ rule, Faerie saw the most peaceful and prosperous time in its history. The two were loved by all their citizens. They adopted several children, so when the years started catching up with them and they stepped down, their eldest daughter Claire was crowned queen.

Finally, after decades together on the earth, Dean and Cas felt their time there coming to a close. They said goodbye to all of their loved ones. Standing together on the highest tower of the castle, they clasped hands and lit the Angel’s Wing that Mary gave them years ago, turning their faces upward. Together, they flew into the heavens, feeling their bodies give way until they were pure starlight. To this day, the people of Faerie can look up at night and see them twinkling over their world, side by side for eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love <3  
> x


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